


say hello wave goodbye

by TeresaChristina



Category: Fleetwood Mac (Band)
Genre: 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, Abortion, Affairs, Australia, Bad Ideas, Be Careful What You Wish For, Breaking Up & Making Up, Child Loss, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Do-Over, Domestic Violence, Don't Try This At Home, Drug Addiction, Dubious Morality, Emotional Roller Coaster, Epic Love, Ex Sex, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots in Love, Illegal Activities, Infidelity, Inspired by Real Events, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Japan, Mildly Dubious Consent, New Zealand, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Second Chances, Touring, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vibrators, What-If, Years Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 208,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23301490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeresaChristina/pseuds/TeresaChristina
Summary: A tale of two tours- Tusk, The Dance, and points in between.  Sex, drugs, rock n' roll, and heavy angst ahead, so consider yourself forewarned!
Relationships: Lindsey Buckingham/Stevie Nicks
Comments: 71
Kudos: 37





	1. makes me feel like saying sorry (1996)

**March 1996**

She knew he was at the door before he even finished walking up the front steps.

She had been peering out the living room window, concealing herself from view by hiding behind the curtains the way she did as a little girl waiting for her dad to come home from work. But even if she hadn't been lying in wait, she had a few other sets of eyes and ears keeping watch for her.

"Yes, yes, I hear you, my babies," she called out to the dogs who were jumping up and down and barking at the closed door, impatient to see this unknown intruder. "Please be good. I really need you to be good for me today."

Unaffected by her pleas, their excitement only escalated once she opened the door. Maybe they were feeding off her own nerves. Maybe they were doing her a favor, making sure she wouldn't end up just staring in silence until her brain kicked in enough to allow her to stammer out some sort of greeting.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she says as she reaches down and scoops up the two small pups in order to let Lindsey inside. "They'll calm down in a minute, they just get a little wigged out by strangers." The irony of calling him a stranger is not lost on her, and yet she supposes it's an accurate term. He's never been to this house, never met her dogs, never seen her in this particular skirt and sweater (purchased new for this occasion). She hasn't even gotten a chance to really look at him and see whether he's changed. The only thing she knows for sure is that he smells the same, the sense memory hitting her so strongly that she can barely stand up straight again after catching a whiff as she leans toward him to collect the dogs. Remembering sitting next to him on the couch in her college apartment, watching Neil Armstrong walk on the moon. Him sneaking into her hotel room after they won the Grammy because he couldn't imagine spending that night with anyone else. The two of them watching the sun rise on a deserted beach in Hawaii and feeling like the only people on earth as the waves lapped at their toes. All those moments and a million more, plus another million she longs to forget. She spends the bulk of her recent days dwelling on the latter, waiting for that moment that's been promised to her when she'll no longer want to shut the door on the past. "Come on, let's go in the kitchen and Mommy will get you a cookie, how about that?"

She points Lindsey in the direction of the living room and he takes a seat on the couch, listening to her coo at her four-legged companions. One of the dogs runs past him with a green biscuit in its tiny mouth a moment later, settling down in the far corner of the room to enjoy its treat while still keeping an eye on him. "Lindsey? You want anything?"

"Uh, as appetizing as that looks, whatever it is you gave them- I'll pass." _Don't try to be funny, it makes you sound like an idiot_ , he scolds himself.

"Those are the only cookies I have in this house, believe me," she says, laughing as she wanders into the room, "and every now and then they start to look awfully tempting."

He didn't completely understand the details of this new diet that she was on, just that she had turned down his offer to have this little reunion in a restaurant because 'I only eat at home now'. And as much as he wanted to meet in public, he wanted even more to be accommodating to her, so here he sat. "Oh. I mean, you look good."

He cursed himself yet again the minute the words left his mouth, unsure if she'd take them as a backhanded compliment. It wasn't a lie, because she _did_ look good and she had obviously lost weight recently, although it wasn't the first or even second thing he'd noticed. The first was her eyes. There was still something a little faraway about them, but he could tell that there was life inside in the same way that tiny green shoots in early spring signal the blooms to come.

The second thing came when she leaned over to pick up the dogs and he inadvertently got an eyeful of her cleavage. He wasn't _trying_ to look, but it was just there right in front of him and once he caught a glimpse it was almost impossible to turn away. God, he hopes she didn't notice him staring.

She sits back in an overstuffed chair across from him and tries to covertly size him up. He looks good. Her memories of the last time she saw him are hazy, mental photos filtered through a distorted lens, but she remembers that his face was tired even when he smiled. Back then everyone had that same tired look when she was around. He looks awake now, and she's glad. She's waking up too.

"Stevie?"

She startles a little, realizing that he must have been talking to her. "Sorry, I...what were you saying?"

"It's fine. I just said that it's a nice place you've got here."

"Thanks. I'm still getting things situated, though...I've only been here since the new year. It was time for a change, you know? I was ready to get back out here. Being that close to Mom and Dad was starting to be a little- it was time for the baby bird to flee the nest," she says with a laugh. It felt like her parents were more nervous about this move to LA than they were the first time she settled here as a broke 20-something living in sin. Only in the last few weeks had her mother finally stopped calling multiple times a day. "But how are you? You said you're getting ready to record?"

She listens to him explain his plans for the new album, grateful that she had asked. It temporarily took the pressure off of her, keeping her from rambling, and she could tell it made him happy that she was interested.

"And how's your girlfriend?" she asks out of politeness.

"Uh, she's, um. Not my girlfriend anymore."

Stevie mentally kicks herself. _That's what you get for pretending to care_. "Oh. I'm really sorry, I-"

"You didn't know," he says, waving off her apology. "And it's fine, honestly. It was for the best." Despite not taking offense to her question, a part of him was glad she felt guilty because it meant she wouldn't complain about him asking something equally intrusive. "So. You seeing anyone?"

"Me? No. Not for quite a while. A few months after...the last time we saw each other, one day my mom sat me down and said 'Sweetheart, if you're going to stay out of trouble for good, you need to take some time to figure out who you are and what you want, _without_ someone else around to distract you'. And you know, she was right."

Lindsey nods, not saying anything. It was sound advice, but he had heard similar things coming out of her mouth many times before, always followed by a new man and an 'I guess you can't help who you fall for' within a week or two.

"So now I've been single for...God, I'm gonna say it's been almost a year and a half. And it's been really good for me! Now I'm at the point where I've got a few people dying to set me up with someone- but I don't know. I'm not sure if I'm ready for that yet. We'll see."

Frankly, Lindsey was impressed. There was that tiny spark of jealousy that still lived inside him and was appeased by this news, of course, but more than that he was grateful that she seemed to be genuinely trying to do right by herself. "That's gr-" _don't say 'great', you'll sound like an ass_ , "you seem like you're in a good place."

"I'm getting there." She was certainly miles away from where she was when they last met, literally and figuratively. It was three days after she had gotten out of rehab and he had come to visit her at her house in Phoenix. They had gone for a long walk around her property- holding hands, talking, crying, making out behind a tree to escape the watchful eyes of her family. Then he left, and that was that. Until now.

"I was surprised when you called. I mean, good surprised. Never thought you'd actually want my help on any of your solo stuff," he says, digging his nails into his palm in frustration when that came out with a tinge of bitterness that he hadn't intended.

"Well, you know," she says, deciding there was no need to mention how he wasn't exactly knocking down her door to ask _her_ for help, "think of it as my way of extending an olive tree."

"Olive branch."

"What?"

"That's how the phrase goes, extending an olive branch. You said olive tree." _What the hell are you doing? You should've let it go, she's obviously anxious_.

"Oh yeah, right." _Damnit_. Mixing up words was always the first sign when she started to get overly worried or excited, and he knew it well. "Anyway- I did, do, want you on this song. But it's important to me because...I mean, it started with my sponsor. I-"

"Your sponsor?" he asks in surprise. "You working the program?"

"Reluctantly, yes." She had gone to an NA meeting after she left rehab just so everyone would get off her case about it and went directly to the 13th step- getting laid. After three short-lived flings, it was suggested to her that maybe women-only meetings would be a better choice, and that's when she gave up going altogether. "Only because she won't let me quit. Somehow I found the one woman in the world who's more stubborn than me."

"Now that's something I'd like to see."

"Yeah, yeah. So I'm making my way through the steps...slowly." It would be more accurate to say she bullshitted her way through a few of them. That whole admitting you're an addict, accepting you have a disease you can't control thing had never sat right with her. She didn't think she was sick, just a person who got into bad situations, but she told everyone what they wanted to hear so she could move on. "And now I'm at the point where- fuck. This is harder than I thought it'd be."

"Steph, you don't have to tell me any of this, not if you don't want to." He could see her chin quivering ever so slightly and his instinct to protect her, to save her from herself, kicked in before he could control it.

"No, I do," she says, sitting up a little straighter. "It's something I need to do." For all the things she had heard in rehab and then promptly discarded, this was the part that spoke to her, about how guilt and regret would eat you up until you stopped holding it inside. "Because I know you're not going to believe this, but over the years- I've fucked up."

"You don't say," he replies dryly, but the smile he gives her is soft and encouraging.

"Just a time or two!" That gets a laugh out of her, gets her to let go of her death grip on the arm of the chair. "But anyway...now I'm at the point where you're supposed to think about the people you've hurt and how you're going to make amends to them. And my sponsor always says, that doesn't mean you just tell someone you're sorry. Because it's only words, and it's not going to fix the past. You can't go back and change things that happened, so you make amends by showing people that _you've_ changed." One of the dogs walks over and stands at her feet, whimpering softly until she picks it up and sets it in her lap. "And that's why I wanted you here. I'm not asking for anything, I don't expect anything from you, I just wanted you to see that I'm different now."

He nods, temporarily unsure of what to say. He's proud of how far she's obviously come, but he's intimidated all the same because they don't really _do_ this. If they're honest with each other, it's under the influence, and if they're apologizing then it's probably under duress. At least, that's how it's been since sometime in the mid-70s. He'd have to go further back than that in his memory to find a time when they were naive enough for that level of truthfulness.

She says she doesn't want anything from him, but he still feels the pressure to reply in kind and he just can't. He knows he owes her at least as many apologies as she owes him- after all, that's the beauty of their relationship. But for now he's a coward, at least as compared to her, so she'll have to settle for a quiet thank you.

"Lindsey?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think- will we ever be able to talk about her?"

"About Samantha," he says, not needing to ask who the 'her' in question was. The syllables feel strange in his mouth, like he has to contort his tongue to force them out. "Wow. I. I haven't said that name in...it's probably been at least ten years."

"You never told anyone?"

"Of course not. We had a promise. Why, did you?" he asks, an angry flush starting to spread from the base of his neck upwards.

"Jesus, no!" It would be easy to get offended, but she tries to fight the urge and remember what she's been told. _You don't get to choose how others react_. "I wouldn't," she says, her voice calmer this time. It was all they had left, a name, and to share it with anyone else would be like diluting that one tiny piece of her that they had to hold on to. "I've told the story to two, maybe three people over the years but...never her name. And I won't."

"Stevie. If this is about what I said that day, when we had that fight, you have to know that-"

"It's not. I mean, you'd clearly been holding it in for a long time and I'm not gonna ask you to apologize for how you feel. What's done is done and you know, there was some truth to it."

" _No_." He scrubs his hand over his face, aware that despite her words and the careful neutrality of her tone, she wasn't offering him forgiveness. Not that he was expecting it. He had set out to burn bridges that day and he had succeeded, choosing his words to virtually insure that there would never be a chance at a relationship for them again. "I swear to God, if I could take it back-"

"But you can't. And that's not what I'm after. What I'm trying to say is, we've never really sat down and talked about her while we were both in our right minds. Now isn't the time, I know that. I'm just asking if you think we'll ever be to that point."

"Yeah, I just...I dunno what there is to say. It's so far in the past that I don't see what it would accomplish."

She nods, having expected as much from him. It was the golden rule of making amends, a therapist had told her, that there are some old wounds you can't touch because it's just going to hurt the person involved even more. This was obviously one of those things and she wouldn't try to force him into a conversation he wasn't ready to have. "I understand."

"It's not that I-"

"I know, Linds. It's okay." She knows that it's not that he doesn't care- or worse yet, that he's forgotten. The way he's staring into the distance at nothing, as if he could will himself into another time and place, says it all.

"Sometimes at night I still dream that she's..."

"I know. I do too."

They both studiously avoid looking at one another, the room silent except for the dog's soft snore and the sounds of two people trying to conceal their tears from view. He wishes he knew what to say. He wishes he knew _how_ to say something, anything, but he's paralyzed by the fear that whatever he would say would only hurt her more and he can't have that. Especially when, by all appearances, she seems to be doing so well. He already feels like he was given far beyond what he deserved when she agreed to let him come visit her fresh out of rehab. They weren't exactly friendly before she went in, and he assumed it'd only be worse once she was clear headed, but she seemed so willing to put their past behind them and honestly, it scared the shit out of him. He didn't entirely trust her, but he mistrusted himself even more and he just couldn't bear the thought of fucking things up after she'd already come so far. It was hard to let go, especially after she kissed him exactly the way he'd been missing for the better part of a decade. But he knew that if he walked away then, he'd be saving them from their inevitable joint destruction, and she knew it too. And when he looks at her now, he can tell he made the right choice. For her, at least. She's thriving, she's facing the past- and he feels as inadequate as ever.

Her voice pulls him out of his self-loathing. "So. What did you think when you heard the demo?"

\--------------------

He's about to leave for the day when he looks out the window at his car and makes a face. "Shit. Uh, I'll be right back."

The dogs start to whine as they watch him walk away, having apparently grown fond of him over the last few hours. But then instead of driving away, he grabs something from the passenger seat and turns back around, and they start wagging their tails in excitement again.

"Sorry, not for you," he apologizes to them, handing Stevie a large and slightly wilted bouquet of brightly colored tulips. "I, ah. It's a housewarming gift. But I forgot 'em in the car so..."

"Don't worry about it, I'll put them in water and they'll perk right up." She holds out one arm tentatively and he accepts the offer, pulling her into a hug. "Thank you, Linds. For everything."

They hold onto each other just a little tighter than necessary, just a little too long for people who'll see each other again in less than 24 hours. Feeling suddenly emboldened, he turns his head and presses his lips against her temple. "Steph?"

"Uh-huh?"

"I'm proud of you."


	2. it's for the best we keep our distance (1979)

**October 1979**

"Ugh! How am I a fucking millionaire but I don't have a nickel?"

Her voice reverberates down the concrete hallway, as does the sound of her boot kicking the side of the vending machine in frustration. Lindsey comes around the corner just in time to see her staring it down, hands on her hips, and she glares at him when he laughs. "Problem, Stevie?"

"I walked all the way over here," she gestures dramatically toward the dressing room at the other end of the hall, "and now I'm short a nickel!"

"You do realize there's about 20 different kinds of drinks already set up in there, don't you?" he asks, making a big show of reaching into his pocket and dropping a coin into her hand.

She rolls her eyes in thanks and deposits it into the machine, letting out a relieved sigh when a can pops out. "Yes, but I wanted ginger ale and there was none in there."

"Still feeling sick?" He watches as she pulls a flask out of her purse and pours some of the contents of the can into it.

"Hey, whether it's the flu or a hangover, this should do the job," she says with a shrug when she sees his amused look. "Or maybe I'm just tired. Whatever, I'll be fine before it's time for soundcheck."

"So that vacation must have been really relaxing, huh?" he asks snidely.

"Lindsey, it's the first night of the tour. Can we not do this? At least for one day?"

In truth, she knew it was coming and she had been expecting it since the second she had stepped on the plane that morning. It had been almost two weeks since she had last seen him, on the final night of rehearsals for their upcoming tour.

Maybe it would've been better if she had just left him alone. Things were still tense between them, resentments from their year in the studio simmering just under the surface, and so she had been trying to keep her distance for the sake of her (and the band's) sanity. Besides, it wasn't her job to cater to his mood swings anymore. He had someone else for that.

But then she happened to look his way during a break and saw how he was huddled over his guitar in a dark corner, cross-legged and almost curled in on himself as he muttered under his breath. Not an unusual tableau, except that she knew him well enough to be able to tell when he was just Lindsey being Lindsey and when there was something more serious afoot. By the time the record was finished, they had all looked a little (a lot) worse for wear, but then a few weeks' vacation and the excitement of the album release had buoyed everyone's spirits. Everyone minus Lindsey, that was. If anything, he seemed worse off than he had been before. The seemingly permanent creases across his forehead and dark circles under his sunken eyes told her that his break hadn't been a restful one. And truthfully, neither had hers, but at least she was able to have some fun. She was willing to bet that he spent the entire time holed up in his studio tormenting himself over some minute detail of the live arrangements of the new songs or worrying about the sales figures for an album that wouldn't even be in stores for another month.

He needed her. No one else was able to get through to him the way that she was. So it was with good intentions that she had quietly made her way over to him and rested her hand on his back to get his attention. "Hey."

"Carol, I _told you_ \- oh," he said, his tone changing from annoyance to a subdued curiosity when he saw who was behind him. "Hey."

"I'm leaving as soon as we're done and going back home. You should come over tonight."

At first he thought it must be a trick. But her voice was so soft, so sincere, and the sweet little smiles she kept giving him throughout the rest of the rehearsal convinced him that she wasn't playing. And besides, she could've easily dragged him away right then and there if all she wanted was a quick fuck. It wouldn't have been the first time.

True to her word, she turned down an invitation to go back to Mick's for some post-rehearsal celebration. Lindsey hung around long enough so that it wouldn't look like he was following her and then suggested to Carol that she should go to the party without him. Fortunately it didn't take long to convince her, and then he was peeling out of the parking lot and speeding toward Stevie's house.

She was waiting at the door when he arrived, barefoot and hair damp from the shower, and he barely managed to get out a hello before she was dropping to her knees and reaching for his fly. It'd been so long since they'd done this. Done anything, really. They kissed a little at the album release party but they didn't have enough time or privacy to take it any further, and before that it had been weeks since they'd had the chance to be alone. Even when they _were_ alone, she certainly wasn't offering to suck his dick. _'I think your little girlfriend can take care of that'_ , she had sniffed with disdain.

But now here she was swallowing him down, the tip of her nose buried in the dark curls surrounding the base of his cock as she gripped onto the backs of his thighs for better leverage. She groaned loudly when he hit the back of her throat and got even louder when he fisted his hands in her hair. "Oh _Jesus_ , that's...yeah, baby, take it. All of it."

He bucked his hips forward, testing, and when she didn't protest he started fucking her mouth in earnest. He kept a tight grip on her head to hold her in place as he came, surprised when he let go and she sat back on her heels and swallowed. She certainly hadn't done _that_ in God knows how long. Ever since they had broken up for good, she had made a big deal out of _not_ swallowing on the rare occasion that she actually did go down on him, just in case he wasn't quite sure where he stood with her.

She bit her bottom lip and smiled up at him, and then he pushed her down onto the nearest rug and tugged on the sash of her satin robe. As he predicted, she had nothing on underneath. He lifted her legs up to rest on his shoulders and ran one finger over her as she shuddered. "You're so fucking wet. Just from sucking me off."

She nudged him with her heel, but he held back. "Because you're a slut for my cock."

"Mmm."

"No. Say it."

"I am, I need you- oh God!" she squealed as he leaned in, covering her with his mouth. It was an uncomfortable position to be in on the hard tile floor but he didn't give a shit, he needed it as much as she did. He's become remarkably good at closing his eyes and pretending it's her that he's fucking- it's the only way he can get off these days. And he can buy his girlfriend the right shampoo and the right perfume to make the fantasy just that much more real, but he can't fake this. _His_ Steph; the way she tasted and smelled and wriggled against him as he rubbed her clit with the flat of his tongue. He was close to gagging from the effort, his eyes watering, but he didn't care. It was worth it when she arched her back and dug her nails into his scalp, gasping as he lapped up another rush of moisture until she couldn't take it any more.

Somehow they made it to the couch, where she rode him slowly until he was on the brink of insanity, and then upstairs to the bedroom where he took her from behind as the headboard shook underneath her grasp. But as good as it was, the sex wasn't what he was replaying in his head later on as he drifted off to sleep. It wasn't even the way she mumbled 'love you, Linds' in a tired little voice before exhaustion overtook her. He'd heard that one too many times before to let himself truly believe it. No, it was how she ducked her head so that her mouth was next to his ear, straddling his lap with her palm resting over his heart, and murmured "I'm proud of you, y'know. For everything you did with the album and...yeah. You did good."

That night, he slept better than he had in a year.

He woke up to the sound of the phone ringing, her warm body still curled around him. She shook her head as if willing it to stop. "You're not gonna answer?"

"Mmmno." When it became obvious that the caller wasn't going to give up, she growled sleepily and threw out one arm to grab the receiver. "Yeah...?"

"Oh Stevie, thank God you answered! I'm so worried, Lindsey never came home last night and I have no idea where he is."

"Hey Carol," she said, turning her head to glare over at the man in question. "I dunno, did you try the studio?"

"They said they haven't seen him. Nobody has since rehearsal last night."

"Uh-huh. Where did he tell you he was going when he left?"

"I...don't remember." He groaned quietly and Stevie snapped her fingers to silence him.

"Well, he told me he just needed to be alone for a while. You know how he gets. He did this all the time when we were together," she lied. "He probably just went to a hotel for the night or something. I'm sure he's fine. Nothing to worry about."

"You really think so? He's just been so stressed lately and-"

"I'm positive. Why don't you take the day to relax, go shopping or whatever, I know you're a busy woman and you need some time to yourself." He snorted and she elbowed him in the side sharply. "Listen, I've gotta go so...yeah, nice talking to you too. Tell him hi for me when you see him."

She hung up and immediately started poking him in the ribs again, trying and failing to keep from laughing. "Oh my God, you ass. Next time can you, like, pin a note to her shirt or something? You owe me _big time_ for that."

"I do, huh? What do I owe you?" he asked, pulling her on top of him and cupping her ass in his hands.

"Nuh-uh," she said as she rolled off of him and headed toward the bathroom. "I gotta let Ginny out, and then I'm making you breakfast. You're too skinny. Doesn't your little girlfriend feed you?"

He shrugged but said nothing, not wanting to point out that she's not one to talk when he can see the outline of her ribs on her back like she's some starving third world orphan.

"Anyway, after we eat...then we can discuss how you're going to repay me." She grinned before she closed the bathroom door behind her with a flourish, and if he pretended that he didn't know what she had stashed in there, things were pretty fucking close to perfect.

\--------------------

He wonders when he's ever going to realize that good things don't last. Not in his world, anyway.

They sit at the dining room table with her perched in his lap, drinking coffee and popping little bites of scrambled eggs into each other's mouths and tossing a piece down to Ginny here and there. He tries to feel her up while she's doing the dishes and she splashes him with soapy water before she takes off running upstairs, and he chases after her and pins her down underneath him at the foot of her bed and they get lost in each other again.

"Mmm, no. Just stay like this," she says when he moves to pull out of her, fingers skimming down his forearm. And he might as well, because he feels like he's 18 again and he'll be ready for another round in ten minutes. Maybe less if she keeps squeezing his cock like that.

He licks around one of her nipples, teasing the hard little bud with his tongue, and she sighs happily. He doesn't want this to end. Maybe it doesn't have to. "Stevie."

"Yeah honey?"

"Don't go," he says, heart beating in double time.

"Wait, what?"

He nods toward the open suitcase in the corner of the room. "Cancel your plans. I'll...I'll send Carol out to see her family or whatever and we'll lay low for the week, just the two of us. We could stay here...we could go up to that place in the mountains where we went a couple years ago, remember that? Anything. Just...don't go."

"Lindsey." He doesn't like that tone, doesn't like how she moves away from him. "I can't."

"Why? What's so important?" He didn't even really know the details of her trip beyond what he overheard her telling Christine, something about discussing plans for her solo album with some label bigwig at his house in Key West ("sounds productive," Chris had remarked). "Who is this guy you're going to see, anyway?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Do I know him?"

"We know all the same people, don't we?" She sits up, pulling the sheet up to her chest to cover herself. "Lin-"

"So why won't you tell me?"

"Because it's none of your business!"

"What is it you're- oh God," he says, shaking his head. "Don't tell me it's actually Mick. It is, isn't it?"

"No, it's not! He's going back to England to see his kids, you know that."

"Do I?"

"Lindsey. Stop. You don't get to interrogate me, okay?"

"I'm not- I'm just trying to figure out what's- so are you dating this guy?" he sputters.

"No. Not that it makes any difference, but no."

There's this stuffed bunny draped across her headboard looking at him with the same narrowed eyes as hers, and it makes him want to put his fist through the wall. "But you're going to fuck him."

"Maybe I will!" she shouts, throwing up her hands like she hadn't considered the possibility before. "Look...we just can't, alright? It's not good for you and me to spend all that time with each other. We'll end up fighting, and then- we're already gonna be together for the better part of a year, and it's just too much."

"Too much. So what's the right amount? Huh? Is this it, right here? The clock's run out, and now you've gotta take off to fuck someone else?"

She huffs, wrapping the sheet back around herself tightly like he didn't have her tits in his mouth five minutes ago. "You're one to talk about fucking someone else! I've got your girlfriend calling me when we're in bed together, then you're thinking up ways to get rid of her for a week...for what? We both know you'll go crawling back home to her sooner or later so just- let's make it sooner. Goodbye."

"Let's- what?"

"Go!" she says, waving her hand. "I don't have time for this, I have to get packed. I will see you on the plane in ten days."

"Stupid fucking bitch," he mumbles under his breath as he goes in search of his jeans.

"I heard that!"

"Good! I wanted you to!"

"Yeah, yeah. Tell Carol I send my love."

He got dressed and took the stairs two at a time, fingernails digging into his palms. Maybe _he_ was the stupid one. If he had just kept his goddamn mouth shut...but he hadn't been imagining things, had he? He knew how she acted when she just wanted to fuck, and this had been different. She had been so _nice_ to him, so sweet and attentive and like the girl he used to know. She gave him the best head of his life and then said she loved him and she was proud of him. God knows she didn't say those things to him often- or ever, really. Not anymore. So what the hell was he missing? Was he a complete idiot for thinking that she was putting out signals that she might be open to more than a one night tryst?

He got in his car, fumbling for a lighter and hitting the steering wheel when he couldn't find one. Godfuckingdamnit, he needed to get out of here. She was probably watching him through the window and he had already been humiliated enough for one day without her seeing him close to tears. No way was he going to cry over that dumb whore. Not this time.

\--------------------

If anybody asks, Stevie tells them her vacation was great.

It wasn't a lie- she had enjoyed herself and they had made plans to meet up when the tour came back east later in the fall. He was a nice guy, he treated her well, and he reassured her that she had the talent to be a star in her own right without the band (or more precisely, Lindsey). The sex might not have been amazing, but he knew how to get her off and that's more than she could say for some people. Most importantly, things between them were easy, and that's what she needed.

And yet there were still a few nights where she found herself lying awake and staring at the full moon, wondering what would have happened if she had stayed in LA. The moon always had a way of making her overly sentimental. 'It's the same wherever you go,' her mother had said to her when she was a young girl boxing up her room for yet another move. 'It'll always be with you.' She had told that story to Lindsey once and to her surprise, he had remembered, gifting her with a crescent moon pendant before he left to go on tour with the Everly Brothers.

But that was years ago, she reminded herself. She couldn't let old memories cloud her judgment when she knew she had made the right choice by telling him no. It was tempting for sure, but what could it possibly lead to? The way she saw it, there were only two potential outcomes. The first, and most likely, was that things would spiral into another epic meltdown and they would be at each other's throats before they even set off for the first tour date. Knowing how miserable the Rumours tour had been at times, she was desperate to avoid a repeat of that situation.

The second option was almost worse. What if, by some strange circumstance, they actually got closer? How was she supposed to deal with having him, all of him, for a week and then sending him back to his girlfriend? And not just sending him back, but having to see him with her every day while she pretends that she's fine and that the past week never happened? Again, she'd been there before.

She thought about calling him when she arrived back in LA. After all, this whole situation started because she was genuinely worried about him and that hadn't changed. She wanted to know that he was okay, that _they_ were okay, and she couldn't do that while he had Carol surgically attached to him. But then she got a call inviting her to the Eagles' album release party that night, and by the time she remembered that she hadn't checked in on him, it was far too late and she was far too drunk to do anything about it.

The next morning, Stevie made her last-minute entrance onto the plane that was taking them to Idaho for the first stop of the tour. As she could've predicted, Lindsey had his head turned toward the window and refused to acknowledge her. His seatmate was happy to pick up the slack for him, though.

"Stevie! Isn't this exciting?" Carol Ann exclaimed, dropping her death grip on Lindsey's hand to lean over and touch Stevie's arm. "We're all back together again."

"We couldn't do it without you, Carol," she deadpanned. She swore she saw the corner of Lindsey's mouth twitch, but he said nothing as she made her way to the back of the plane.

Exhausted but unable to sleep because of the waves of nausea that kept hitting her, she nonetheless pretended she had dozed off to avoid having to make conversation with anyone. About an hour and a half into the flight she saw Lindsey stand up and walk toward her. She held her breath in anticipation, but he went right past her and into the bathroom. Not two minutes later she watched Carol get up and head in the same direction, giggling as she shut the door behind herself. Jesus, really? Maybe she wasn't one to judge, having done the same thing a time or two, but at least she had the decency to wait until everyone else was asleep.

More giggling and the sounds of two hushed voices. She was starting to feel her stomach churning again, and it had nothing to do with the obnoxious antics of the couple on the other side of the bathroom door. Shit...

"Open up!" she shouted, fist pounding on the thin wall. "I mean it, I'm fucking going to throw up here if you don't-"

The door flew open and she pushed the two people standing in her path out of the way, barely making it in time to expel the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl.

And that was the last thing she had said to him until now, when he cornered her by the vending machine. "It'll be easier on everyone if we just try to get along, Linds."

"Hey, who's not getting along? Just making a friendly observation that you must have had a hell of a good time in Key West."

"I did, thank you."

"I can tell you got a lot accomplished," he says with a smirk. "So are you guys a couple now, or?"

"What? No."

"Oh, so it must not have been _that_ good."

"If you really want to know, he was wonderful. But I wasn't looking for it to turn into anything in the first place, not when I'm about to be on the road for a year."

"And that's why you couldn't-" He looks behind his shoulder, voice dropping. "That's what was so important that you couldn't stay here, going to fuck someone you don't want to date so that you can get a record deal."

"Excuse me? I already had a signed contract months ago and you know it. Unlike your girlfriend, my career isn't based on who I'm screwing."

He raises his eyebrows, reaching up to his chin to scratch at a beard that he still forgets is no longer there. "Whatever. Time to move on to your next shitty lay, I guess."

"Hmm. Wonder who that'll be."

He snarls and pushes her up against the wall in one fluid motion, hands pinning her wrists above her head as he presses himself up against her back. "Sure as fuck isn't going to be me."

"Lindsey. What the hell are you doing?"

"Just reminding you what you could've had," he says. His mouth is right behind her ear and she can feel his hot breath on her skin, his lips ghosting across the back of her neck in the barest hint of a kiss. She shivers and tries to wriggle out from his grasp but he's too quick for her. Holding both of her tiny hands in one of his, he squeezes her breast with his free hand. She's not wearing a bra and her nipple instantly hardens as he gropes her over the thin fabric.

"Stop it. Someone's going to see," she hisses.

"Like you care." He roughly nudges her legs apart with his knee and pushes her forward until she's trapped between him and the wall, unable to move. His forehead resting against the back of her skull, he tightens his grip on her wrist and hopes to God she'll bruise.

She lets out a surprised gasp when she feels his hand cup her ass and then move lower. He shushes her almost mockingly, his fingers finding their target through the layers of her skirt, and she can't stop herself from rubbing against them even as she's silently calling him every name in the book and a few that she's made up on the spot. What an arrogant son of a bitch he is, thinking he can- "Oh. _Fuck_."

He flicks his thumb against her clit one more time and then abruptly steps back and lets go of her hands, her shaky legs almost buckling without him there to hold her upright. He laughs as she struggles to find her footing, not bothering to help her steady herself, and starts to walk away. "I'll see you tonight."

"You li-"

" _Carol_! Where the fuck are you?" he shouts, already halfway down the hall.

For a moment she feels badly for the other woman, knowing that he'll be a real bear for the rest of the day and Carol's going to be the one who has to deal with it even though it wasn't her fault. So yeah, she feels a little guilty. But only for a moment. Because really, Carol can have him. They deserve each other.

She feels a sour taste rising in the back of her throat again and retches, bending over a nearby trash can and clutching her stomach.

So much for starting the tour off well...


	3. this time I'm not leaving without you (1997)

**_February 1997_ **

"Can I...do you want to go back to my place? Oh wow. That's not what, I didn't mean it like..."

Stevie laughs, patting Lindsey's shoulder reassuringly as he gives her a sheepish grin. "I just meant, you could hear the new tracks I was telling you about- unless you don't want to," he adds quickly when he sees her hesitating. "I know it's Valentine's day, you probably have someone waiting up for you..."

"Oh god, no," she says, laughing again. "The only person I have waiting on me is Karen. She said she'd stick around in case things went south- I totally forgot to tell her she could leave. She's probably going to kill me."

It was with a mix of trepidation and nervous excitement that she had agreed to meet the rest of the band for dinner in order to discuss plans for a potential reunion. She had been nothing but optimistic about the idea until the time came to actually head to the restaurant, when she had a moment of panic and only agreed to leave the house on the condition that Karen stay right outside so that she could make a quick exit if necessary.

Thankfully, it didn't come to that. She had a few nervous minutes when she first arrived, wishing that for once in her life she hadn't been the last one to show up. She spotted the group at their table before they noticed her, the four of them smiling and laughing together, and she briefly felt like she was back at Sound City sitting alone in the corner with her knitting and wondering if there was really a place for her there.

But then everyone stood up for a round of hugs and warm welcomes as soon as they saw her, and once she took her seat she had forgotten all about wanting to leave. It was as if the time had never passed, like she had stepped out for a smoke in 1975 and came back to the same group of people they had been before the fame and the fights, the affairs and addictions and all the heartbreak that came from them. They retold old stories, everyone talking over each other to fill in forgotten bits or beat someone else to the punchline, and inside jokes flew back and forth until they were all laughing so loudly that they were getting dirty looks from other patrons who were trying to have a romantic evening. By the time they actually got down to business, they had already finished dessert. Once again it was just like the old days, only this time the delay wasn't due to a dozen 'bathroom breaks' or someone storming out mid-meal.

The others had already taken off with a promise to keep in touch and reconvene in six weeks. Stevie and Lindsey had hung back, much to the chagrin of the restaurant staff who were looking eager to close up. "Let me go tell Karen she can leave, if she hasn't ditched me already, and then we can head to your place."

Lindsey agrees and follows her into the parking lot, Karen rolling her eyes when she sees him trailing behind, and he feels strangely like he's 18 and standing at the Nicks' door asking permission to take their daughter out for the night.

"You can head home, I'm sure Lindsey can give me a ride back when we're done," she tells Karen, who gives him a sternly protective glare that would put Jess to shame.

"Maybe we should decide on a time and I'll come pick you up."

"You really don't have to," he promises. "I'll have her back at a decent hour, I swear."

Stevie giggles, but Karen seems less than entertained by his humor. "Fine, but I'll be waiting up for you."

The two women have a silent conversation with their eyes and reach some sort of agreement, nodding to each other before Karen reluctantly drives off.

"Why do I feel like she's going to be sitting on your porch with a shotgun when we come back?"

"Oh, she's not that bad," Stevie scoffs as she climbs into the passenger seat of his car. "I'd just told her before we left to- never mind."

"To...what?"

"Nothing." She tries to divert his attention by putting him in the hot seat. "So I'm not the only one without a Valentine, hmm?"

He shrugs. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Well, I never know. This could be some kind of weird setup. Remember what happened to Bob that one time?"

"Oh man, how could I forget?" He laughs, thinking about how their friend went on a first date with a very nice woman, who didn't tell him she'd be bringing along her equally nice girlfriend.

The conversation was well-timed, because it seemed to keep her from noticing as he drove past a turnout on a gravel road that served as their makeout spot decades ago, back when they were young and broke and desperate for some privacy. It was cheaper than a motel room and had a much better view of the city lights- not that they ever spent that much time appreciating it.

He wonders if she suspects he has ulterior motives for inviting her up to the house. He wants to reassure her, especially after his earlier blunder, but he thinks he already clarified his intentions. Mentioning it again might be insulting to her and he definitely doesn't want that. He _does_ definitely want her, after all, but he knows this isn't the time. No matter how stunning she looks, even in the grainy glow of the streetlights that line the roadway.

She knows he doesn't have ulterior motives for bringing her back here. When she mentioned she'd like to hear his new demos, his face was so full of boyish excitement that she knew he didn't have anything else on his mind. For the moment, anyway. She shivers and bites her lip as she follows him into the house, remembering how he kissed the corner of her mouth and whispered to her when she arrived at the restaurant. _You. Ah- you look amazing. Really._

"Are you cold?" he asks, his hand brushing her shoulder as he leads her toward the studio.

She assures him she's fine and watches in amusement when he grabs a bag of pretzels off of the kitchen counter as he passes by. "You're hungry already?"

"Uh, yeah?" he says with a shrug, holding the bag out to her. "Why, you want some?"

"Carbs!" she reminds him as she shakes her head. "Besides, I'm not even close to being hungry again yet."

He shrugs again, taking his place in his usual chair and letting her sit down on an old leather loveseat in the corner of the studio. She had read through the menu about a dozen times and gave the waiter about two dozen special instructions when she ordered back at the restaurant, but he was glad to see that she had eaten a normal amount once she had made up her mind. He knew she would be irritated if she caught him scrutinizing her diet and so he tried to be discreet, even though it was impossible for him to stop worrying completely. He remembered what happened after Samantha, how she had stopped eating almost entirely and when she did eat, she'd get violently ill. It didn't help that he had been a real asshole about it at the time, accusing her of making herself sick on purpose to get attention, until this little old German doctor told him stories about people who survived concentration camps only to die after they were rescued because their bodies went into shock from finally eating after so long. That shut him up pretty quickly. But it also scared the shit out of him, and the memory still lingers to this day. He doesn't want to fail her again.

She looks healthy, though, more so than she has in decades. Her eyes had lit up when she walked into the restaurant and saw him, giving him a smile that started at the corners of her mouth and quickly transformed her entire face. All his fears about seeing her again were instantly vanquished. For a few hours, at least. Now he's not so sure. "So. You think you're ready for this?"

"To hear your songs? I think I can handle it."

"No, no," he says, smiling at the puzzled look on her face. "I meant...this. The whole reunion thing."

"Oh, _that_!" She laughs, and he thinks it has to be the most beautiful sound these walls have ever heard, more than any song he could ever compose. He could work for the rest of his life and still nothing would compare to the effortless perfection of that laugh. He used to know it so well- and maybe this is his chance to fall for it once again. Wouldn't be hard at all. "You had me worried there for a second, wondering what the hell these songs were gonna be about."

"Hey, I didn't say you _shouldn't_ be worried," he teases, and he's rewarded with another giggle. "But first things first. You're okay with everything? Really?"

"No, Linds, don't do that. You sound like my parents," she groans. They had initially been hesitant about the idea, telling her that maybe she needed to keep the past _in_ the past. She had felt like a teenager trying to persuade them that she was responsible enough to go on the class trip to Disneyland, that she wouldn't 'fall into old habits' and she would write them once a day and brush her teeth after every meal. "I promise you, I'm absolutely certain I can do this. I'm not as fragile as everyone thinks I am."

He holds up his hands in surrender. "Who said anything about you being fragile? Not me. I'd kinda like to keep my balls attached to my body, thank you."

"Well, my folks act like I'm one bad show away from going full-out manic depressive junkie, and the rest of you obviously must've been hesitant, because I didn't even know you were all hanging out and hatching this plan until Mick calls me and tells me everyone else is already on board."

"I wanted to bring you into the loop sooner. I really did. But Mick and Chris, they wouldn't let me until I promised them I was 100 percent in. They thought that if we told you and then I backed out- they just didn't want to do that to you. It never had anything to do with any of us thinking you weren't up to it. I was the one they didn't trust."

She's not fully convinced, but she's willing to give him (and them) the benefit of the doubt. That's what this is about, after all, secondthirdfourtheighthundredth chances, and it's not going to work if she starts out with a head clouded by suspicion. "Well, if it makes you feel any better...I believe you. Once Mick told me that you'd agreed to it, I knew you were serious. Shocked the hell out of me at first, though."

"You and me both," he says dryly. "But I promise, I did a lot of thinking about it. A lot. Pretty sure I was giving some of the guys at the label ulcers while I was making up my mind, but I- I couldn't say yes until I was sure about it, not after...y'know. Everything that happened before."

"So why...what made you decide you'd do it?"

He leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head in thought. She's almost ready to ask if he's about to change his mind right then and there when he finally speaks. "The last time I came to see you. In Phoenix."

"When I'd just gotten out of rehab?"

He nods. "We went on that long walk and I remember I just kept looking at you and thinking about how far you'd come and how amazed I was by it. By _you_. And how grateful I was that you were okay."

"Oh, that's why?" He raises an eyebrow and she gives him a sly smile. "Don't think I didn't notice you were staring. I just assumed you were like my parents and thought I'd relapse if you took your eyes off of me for more than a second."

"Well, if I'm remembering right- we managed to get away from them for a while." He remembers how it felt to kiss her, really kiss her, and how in that moment he wasn't sure how he'd managed to survive a half-dozen years without it. Walking away from her again that day had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. He was just as afraid of her relapsing as her parents were, but he was even more afraid that he would be the cause of it and he couldn't live with that kind of guilt. Not on top of everything else he already had weighing on him. He wanted to beg her to wait for him, that he'd change if he knew he had her to come back to, but he knew it wasn't fair to expect her to make that kind of promise when there was a good chance he'd end up breaking her heart all over again. "Anyway, seeing you...it made me want to sort my own shit out. If you could do it after all you'd been through, then maybe it was my turn. But I went back home and...I guess other stuff got in the way."

"Story of our lives," she muses quietly.

"It wasn't until I saw you again last year, when we worked on that song, that I...shit. Just seeing you again, you seemed like you were in such a good place, and it was so good to be back working with you. I couldn't believe- Stevie? You alright?"

"I'm fine, it's okay."

He knows that face, the one that says he's hit a nerve, but he also knows he's not going to get an explanation out of her until she's good and ready to give him one. "I thought...we had fun, didn't we?"

"Yeah. We did."

"Stevie. Is this...you're mad because I didn't call."

"I'm not mad." She's telling the truth. When she initially approached him about working with her, she didn't count on it being any more than a one-off thing. Her therapist had warned her that if she was truly attempting to make amends, it had to be just that and nothing else, that she couldn't put any other expectations on him. But then when he said goodbye, kissing her on the forehead and telling her he'd see her soon- yeah, she might have gotten her hopes up just a little bit.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to."

"You don't have to apologize. You didn't promise me anything."

She's right that technically, he didn't. But he saw how her eyes had brightened when he said he'd call, and he knows he was a jerk to not follow through when she had done so much to make herself vulnerable to him in the name of reconciliation. "No, but I dropped the ball and it wasn't anything to do with you, or not wanting to see you again. You just...seeing you was the kick in the ass I needed to start really cleaning up my own side of the street. I kept thinking about what you said, that you can't change the past by saying sorry, so you've gotta show people _you've_ changed. And you did, you convinced me that you had. It was a brave thing to do and I guess...part of me just didn't want to get in your way. Not until I could honestly show you I'd changed too. So I started getting my shit together for real this time, I got a shrink-"

"I thought you already had one."

He shrugs. "But now I was actually showing up for the appointments."

"Ah. That's the true first step, showing up," she says, and he knows she's speaking from experience.

"It makes a difference, I've gotta say," he admits, chuckling. "So when Mick started floating this idea, I thought...okay. This is my chance. I'm gonna prove to everyone- but especially you- that I've changed. And that's what took me so long...well, you know Mick. He was ready to sign me up for four new albums and three world tours, but I told him I'm only committing to what I'm completely sure I can follow through on, cause there's no going back once I've said yes and- what?"

She shakes her head, smiling down at her lap. "You're such an asshole."

"Wait- how come? What's wrong?" She seems more amused than pissed, but he admits he may not be able to read her as well as he once did.

"Nothing's wrong, it's just-" She shakes her head again, relieved to know that their last meeting didn't scare him away as she feared it might have. Hearing that he'd agreed to this reunion had done a lot to convince her that they were okay, that he had taken her seriously when she told him she wanted to make amends, but hearing him say the words was what she really needed in order to believe it. "It's so typical. I ask you to help me with one song, and then you've got to go and upstage me by agreeing to a whole tour! Always a competition with you."

"I guess some things don't change, huh?" Feeling emboldened, he rolls his chair forward until he's close enough to take her hands in his. "But I'm serious, no walking out this time and no blaming each other. You have my word. If we have problems-"

She cuts him off with a kiss, never letting go of his hands as she leans in to press their mouths together. Her heart starts racing wildly when he reaches for the back of her head with one hand, the other palm splayed out just above her ass to pull her closer to him. His tongue darts in between her lips and she eagerly opens her mouth wider to let him in. She can feel the stubble on his cheek when she reaches out to touch his face, can feel their tongues colliding where their mouths are joined together. "I...Linds. Oh god, Lindsey. Wait."

"Mmm. S'okay," he mumbles to reassure her, not breaking the kiss.

"No, I'm..." she protests weakly, putting her hand on his chest to give them some space. "Shit. I'm sorry."

He looks dazed, eyes still fixed on her mouth. "I'm not."

"I mean, I didn't...I don't know. I shouldn't have done that."

"I'm not complaining," he points out, his hopes deflated when she pulls away.

She pats the spot right beside her on the couch, wrapping both of her small hands around one of his once he sits down. "I'm sorry, really. I got carried away and-"

"Stevie. I mean it. If you keep apologizing, I'm going to get offended."

"And we definitely don't want that," she says, smirking at how some of her red lipstick had rubbed off on his mouth. Unable to resist, she reaches for his lower lip and cleans it off with her thumb. "I...wow. What am I doing? We were having a good talk, we were being honest with each other and...I think I read more into it than you intended."

"I don't think you did."

"No?"

"No." He cautiously lifts his hand, the one still entwined with hers, and sets it on her thigh. And then he waits.

"Do you think we've run out of chances? Like- is there some sort of lifetime cap and we've already used them all up?"

"I don't know. But...I really hope not." She looks up at him, eyes searching his for some sort of clue as to what's going on in his mind. "Listen, I wasn't going to do this, not now. But like you said, since we're being honest with each other...there's always going to be a place for you here," he says, tapping his chest. "I'm never going to _not_ want another chance. Whether now is the right time...that's up to you."

It all seems a little surreal given that, as much as she tried to deny it, she's been waiting and hoping to hear something like this from him for nearly a decade. At one point she had almost managed to convince herself that she was better off without him. Later on, it became a matter of accepting that she had damaged things between them beyond the point of repair _. I will never forgive you, Stevie, I will never be able to look at you without remembering what you did._ But now here he was, ready to try again. Her heart says she's ready too. "I know that...there's no such thing as a blank slate. But I'm willing to put the shit from the past behind us and start over, as much as we can."

"I am too. And I want to get it right once and for all. I wanna take our time so we can get to know each other again, and I can show you I'm not the kid you broke up with back in the day, or even the guy I was when I left the band."

"Aha, I knew it." When he frowns at her, she gives his hand a squeeze. "This is all just an elaborate plot to prove that you were right and I was wrong, isn't it? I'm onto you, Buckingham."

He shrugs, nudging her in the side as he does. "You caught me, what can I say? Although, looking back...you were probably right to dump my ass. I can see that now."

"And you were probably right to walk out on m- us," she says, so quietly he wouldn't have been able to hear it if he wasn't right at her side.

"Hey. It's gonna be different this time, alright? I mean it. As much as I want to make this work- at the very least, I want us to be able to be friends if it doesn't."

"Genuine friends. Not two people that meet up every couple of years to get in a fight about something that happened in the seventies," she agrees.

"That's exactly what I want."

She knows that look in his eyes, the one that says he's not telling her the full story. "But?"

"I lied," he says, voice dropping like he's afraid someone else might be listening in. "What I really want is to take you to bed right now."

"Linds..."

"But I'm not gonna," he assures her, as if she wasn't milliseconds away from giving in. "Because I'm serious, I wanna do this the right way. And every time we've started off by sleeping together, it never worked," and while he's technically correct, she really wishes that they could test that theory again right now, "but I think about when we were young, and how we were friends for so long that by the time it happened, it just felt right. And I don't think we've ever been happier than we were back then."

"I agree, babe...but if you think I'm waiting two years for us to have sex again, you are out of your goddamn mind."

"Jesus, no," he says, both of them laughing. "I know I said I wanted us to take our time, just- I don't think it's going to take us that long."

"I _know_ it's not."

"I don't think we have anything to worry about, though. At least not when it comes to that part. Seems like that's always what we were best at."

"I have a feeling we'll figure it out pretty easily." She's acutely aware of how his hand has crept further up on her thigh, his nose buried in her hair, and she's pretty sure this is exactly what Karen was warning her about when she tried to silently dissuade her from going home with him. "Hey. Lindsey?"

"Yeah?"

She's suddenly feeling incredibly brave, maybe more so than she's ever been without the aid of some sort of substance. "I know this is absolutely not taking it slow, but...what the hell. I still love you. I never stopped."

"I love you too, Steph." To him it doesn't feel fast or slow. It just feels natural, acknowledging something that's always been there. He doesn't remember a time when he didn't love her, not even when he actively hated her- or at least, when he tried so hard to. "So...since we're in love and all, maybe I can take you to dinner sometime?"

"Hmm. Let's see," she says, pretending to think it over.

"Or coffee, or whatever it is you do these days- you _do_ still drink coffee, right?"

"God, of course! Who do you think I am?" She squeezes his hand again, pleased that he's made no attempt to move it. "Well, I'm going back to Phoenix tomorrow night because I've got rehearsals for that benefit show of Don's that I'm playing this weekend- oh, don't be like that," she scolds him when he rolls his eyes. "He's got a new, very young, wife and I'm sure she keeps him far too busy to be bothering his 48 year old ex-girlfriend."

"Like that's ever stopped anyone."

Now it's her turn to roll her eyes. "Anyway, after that I'm off to Florida. I decided I needed a girls trip to relax a little before all the craziness starts. But once I get back...then yes, you can definitely take me out."

"And until then? Can I call you? I mean it this time."

"I suppose that would be okay. And maybe I'll even answer when you do," she jokes. "Now, are you going to let me listen to your stuff or what?"

"Oh yeah, sure," he says, having forgotten why he asked her over in the first place. When he reluctantly lets go of her hand so he can get up and start the tape, her eyes are drawn to a table in the back corner of the room. She can see a few old framed photos- him as a teenager with his family, the two of them from their Buckingham Nicks days- and in front of them sits a small stuffed panda. She blinks rapidly and looks away, remembering a remorseful Lindsey gifting it to her decades ago:

_"I, uh. I got something for you, for the two of you," he said, face still red and tear-streaked. "It's a panda, get it? Because of Japan..."_

_She laughed softly, swiping at her eyes again. "Linds, pandas are Chinese."_

_"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was dealing with a bear expert here," he huffed, pretending to be put out until she shuffled over to his side of the couch and onto his lap, hugging the little bear to herself._

For most of the intervening years, that reminder of their past and all the shame and regret tied up in it would've sent her running. But now, as he hurries back to take his place beside her again, it just makes her want to be closer to him.

She shifts so that her body is slightly turned toward his and he wraps his arm around her shoulders. "This okay?"

"Mmm. Perfect."


	4. I pretend you're mine all the damn time (1979)

**_November 1979_ **

"Oh. _Fuck_."

"That's so good," Lindsey grunts, forehead against the pillow as he inhales the sweet scent of her freshly shampooed hair. She starts to say something to him but he crashes his lips against hers, muffling the words with his mouth.

He's so close now, thrusts rough and uncoordinated, and he lifts her thigh up to hook her leg around his waist so he can slide in deeper. "Shit!" he yells, not caring who might hear him on the other side of the wall as he's coming. Let them- let _her_ \- hear everything. "Oh Jesus, babe, oh fuck... _Steph_."

The woman underneath him? Yeah. Definitely not Steph.

He freezes for a moment, and he swears he can hear his voice reverberating throughout the hotel suite. Leave it to the Marriott to have better acoustics than any venue they've played in so far on this tour. _Quick, distract her_. He tries to play it off like nothing happened, kissing her and whispering all sorts of shit he doesn't mean, never has, and never will. As soon as he thinks he's mitigated the damage he sits up, reaching for the mostly empty glass on the nightstand and awaiting her reaction. Good thing Carol's probably too coked up to remember what happened more than 30 seconds ago.

Or maybe not. "You called me Steph. Again."

"I did?" he asks, looking doubtful. "You sure?"

"Uh huh." She turns her head to look at him, twirling a piece of hair around her finger and damnit, he should've known this was going to happen when he got her that shampoo. "Do we really think we look that much alike?"

"Ah. I mean-"

He's bewildered when she cuts him off with a smile on her face. "Because she's _so_ pretty, you know? Like, if I could be anyone's twin, I'd want to be hers."

"God, I love you," he sighs with relief, and he really means it this time.

\-------------------------

Every day he tells himself he's going to be a better boyfriend. A better person, in general. He's going to stop calling Carol by the wrong name when he fucks her, because he's not going to get away with it forever, and he's going to cut back on the booze and the weed and go a full 24 hours without making someone cry. Carol's an idiot and he never should've started dating her in the first place, but she's better to him than he deserves most of the time and he knows that he takes advantage of her cluelessness and her forgiving nature more than he should. He justifies it to himself because he also knows _she's_ taking full advantage of his fame and his bank account- but if he's fully aware and still does nothing about it, then he figures he must be a sucker who deserves whatever he gets.

"You need to either shape up or let her go," Richard had advised him, but Richard can go to hell as far as he's concerned. He has a new assistant for this tour, some young dark haired kid, and Lindsey's 99% sure Stevie's fucking him. He's been avoiding her as much as possible, but he had the misfortune to see her salivating over this guy before their second show and it's been bugging him ever since. When he asked Richard what he knew, all he got was that "he's got a fiance."

"And when has that ever stopped her?"

"Hey, Buck, you asked what I knew and I told you. He's got an old lady at home. Beyond that, I'm not gettin' involved."

Lindsey took that as a yes. Guess that Key West dick must not have been as good as she pretended it was.

Deciding to do a little investigating, he pulls on his jeans and a halfway clean t-shirt and slips out the door while Carol's still face down on the bed and snoring softly. Another trait she shares with Stevie- how the fuck is it that they even sleep the same?

He's timed this unannounced visit for when it should be late enough to avoid waking her up, but early enough that if she hasn't already gotten rid of anyone she spent the night with, there might still be some clues that she hadn't been alone. She must have come back to her room late (if she came back at all), because he had been watching the hallway for hours through the peephole in the door and never caught a glimpse of her.

"Lindsey?" she asks, tilting her head to the side in confusion when she answers the knock at her door. They don't do this, showing up at each other's room without warning or invitation, unless they're downright furious. Then it's fists pounding and voices shouting threats, not this timid little tapping noise and Lindsey standing in the doorway with one hand shoved in his pocket. "What's- is everything okay?"

She's opened the door all the way, he notices, so she's not worried about hiding a visitor. Her voice is at its usual volume, so she's not worried about hiding _him_ from anyone who might be lurking in the other room of the suite.

"Linds?"

"Oh! Sorry, I...um. JC wanted me to tell you that the limos are coming an hour early this afternoon." It's a lie, but it's not like she'll be there on time anyway.

"Alright..." she says, waiting for something else that would explain why Lindsey didn't call to pass on the message (or why JC didn't just call her himself to begin with). "That's- is that all?"

She's got the big fluffy hotel robe wrapped around her, almost swallowing up her tiny frame, and he forgets why he came because he's too busy thinking about how he wants to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.

"Lindsey? Are you sure you're okay?"

"What? Me? Fine. Are you? I mean, are you still sick?"

She stopped throwing up days ago, but she didn't expect that he would've noticed. He'd been ignoring her for the most part, the silence between them only broken by the occasional snide remark, and he spent all his time holed up with Carol Ann unless his presence was absolutely required elsewhere. So while his concern was a little late in coming, she had to admit it was sweet that he had bothered to ask at all. "I'm feeling better. It was probably nerves...do you want to come in? I was just making myself something to drink."

"Sure, yeah," he says, surprised at how quickly she had warmed to him. Usually he wouldn't have made it past the doorway unless it was clear that he was there to fuck her. She wanders over to the kitchenette, stirring something into her coffee, and he takes a moment to survey the room while she's distracted. The ashtray is empty, which is a good sign. He knows she rarely smokes when she's alone. Of course, she could've been in someone else's room. She _did_ get in late last night...

She looks over at him, standing awkwardly in the sitting area of the suite. "Did you want anything?"

"Uh, coffee would be good, thanks." When her back is turned, he peers into the bedroom. The comforter is rumpled, so she must have slept at some point, and he doubts she would've spent the night with someone else just to come back to her room and go to bed again. Feeling more confident that she had been alone, he sits down and reaches into his pocket. "Shit. You got a light?"

Busy preparing his coffee the way that she knows he likes it, she nods without turning around. "It's in that blue bag on the armchair."

"Got it." He's looking into the bag, fishing through the contents, when he feels something rumbling against the back of his hand and pulls it out to examine this mystery item.

"Lindsey!" She almost drops the cup she's holding, mouth agape. "You put that back!"

"Why, what is it?" he asks, genuinely puzzled. It's shaped almost like a mic, but the top part vibrates. He holds it against his palm and flicks the switch, which makes it start buzzing louder as it picks up speed.

"It's not a toy! Now stop that and give it to me!"

Her possessiveness only makes him more curious. "No! Tell me what it- _wait_. Wait. Is this a..."

"Lindsey Buckingham, I swear to God that if you don't put it down right fucking now, I will-"

"It is! Holy shit!" He sets it down and she quickly grabs it away as he stretches his arms out across the back of the sofa, giving her a shit-eating grin. "My, my, my. Isn't this interesting."

"Shut up and drink your coffee."

He puts his feet up on the couch, sitting sideways so he can watch her as she leans against the kitchen counter and glowers at him. "So how come I've never seen that thing before?"

"Well geez, I don't exactly wave it around to show it off."

"But we lived together for a long time, and I used to go through _all_ your shit," he confesses. And he did, save for her journal. She had warned him that it was booby trapped, that she had ways of knowing if he had messed with it, and he believed her. Too bad she hadn't applied that same level of security to her vibrator.

"I didn't have it back then."

"How old is it? Like, how long have you had it?"

"Why, do you think it's time for me to upgrade?" She counts on her fingers, thinking. "I dunno, I probably got it about two years ago...what? What's so funny now?"

"So not long after we broke up for good."

"Sure, I guess so," she says, not wanting to get into another argument about when their relationship 'officially' ended. She's not sure that it actually ever has, considering they're still sleeping together on a semi-regular basis, but she's not going to tell him that.

Anyway, he seems too busy laughing to want to argue semantics. "And you didn't have one before?"

"No! This was not cheap, Linds, it was imported and where the hell would I have gotten the money for something like that when we could barely make rent-"

"But what I'm saying is," he interrupts loudly before she can go into her whole spiel reminding him about how poor they were, "that you didn't _need_ it. Because you had me. And now you're apparently...unsatisfied. Hmm? Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong!" Again, is he forgetting that he's still fucking her? He's going to end up insulting himself if he's not careful, but far be it from her to try stopping him.

"Am I?"

"Yes. Just because I didn't have _that_ doesn't mean I didn't...I still had hands, I still had...never mind. It's not like I just discovered masturbation after we broke up."

"Oh, I know that," he says, leering at her in amusement. Every part of her not covered by her bathrobe, right down to her toes, is flushed bright red and this is just too good to stop. "I've seen it, remember?"

"Okay, but- Lindsey, do you honestly think I never...on my own? The whole time we were together?" He looks stricken and she realizes that yes, he really did think that. "Oh my God. You can't be serious."

"But you..."

"But I what?" she asks, biting her lip to keep from laughing at his crushed expression.

"I mean, the first time I said I wanted to watch you, y'know," he stammers, blushing just as much as she was, "you were so shy about it that I figured you hadn't. You know."

"Not in front of somebody else, no. But that doesn't mean I'd never done it before, or that I didn't do it when I was alone."

"Oh."

She can tell his head's still swimming, so she takes pity on him. "Honey. It's not something you should be offended by, it's...are you really going to tell me that _you_ never jerked off once in all those years?"

"What? No. Of course I did. But that's different."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a guy and you're not!"

"That's right, I forgot that women only have sex to please men!" she says, shaking her head in disbelief. "What decade am I living in?"

He scowls at her. "I didn't mean it like _that_. I'm sure women do it if they're single, or if whoever they're with isn't getting them off."

"But otherwise, they don't? How are you 30 years old and still think this way?" She sits down on the corner of the dining table, her feet swinging back and forth in front of her. "Even if they're with someone, it doesn't mean they're not going to take care of it themselves sometimes. It's no different than a man."

"Okay, but they _shouldn't_."

She blinks slowly at him, eyes wide. "Lindsey, are we talking about girls in general now, or just me?"

He mumbles something that she can't make out. God, he could be such a baby sometimes. She stands up and goes over to perch beside him on the arm of the sofa while she tends to his wounded ego.

"Linds. Look at me." He turns his head a fraction of an inch toward her, eyes focused somewhere near her earlobe. "You don't need to get upset about this, alright? I promise you, it has nothing to do with you, or anyone else, being bad in bed. If it was, would I still be having sex with you after all this time? Even though you piss me off so much?"

He presses his lips together in a straight line, giving her a tiny one-shouldered shrug. She had a point. He _was_ good in bed, at least when she was the one in it with him. "Then you shouldn't bother with that thing, not when I'm available."

"But you aren't. Not always."

"So what do you do with it, anyway?" he asks, quickly changing the subject. "Like, do you fuck yourself with it, or...?"

"No, no." She had an attachment that you could use to reach your g-spot, but she wasn't even going to get into that with him. "It's just a massager, really. You can use it on your back or your shoulders or your-"

"I wanna see."

"See _what_? You already saw it."

"Nooo. I wanna see what's so great about it," he says, eyeing her over the rim of his coffee mug. "And I don't mean as a back massager."

"You want me to use it to get myself off so you can watch? No. It's not a performance art," she adds when he nods his head like this is a perfectly reasonable request.

"Why not? I mean, I've seen you finger yourself before, it's not really that much different."

"Yeah, but we were already messing around at the time-"

"We can make that happen, I'm free," he says quickly.

"Well, I'm not. I'm supposed to meet the girls downstairs for lunch before we have to leave." Realizing that this could be a powerful motivational tool, she glances at the calendar sitting on the table. "Tomorrow's a free day. What are you doing?"

"I can't tomorrow, I told Carol I'd take her shopping."

"Huh. Sucks for you." She watches him silently processing this- for someone who had no problem ditching her or telling her to leave as it suited him, he could be a bit paranoid when it came to letting her go out on her own. "She doesn't even want you there, she just wants your gold Amex. Sara can go with her-"

"Yeah okay, she can do that," he decides.

_So long, Carol_ , she thinks smugly. "Then, _if_ you're not an asshole to me tonight, you can come over in the afternoon and we'll see what happens. But I mean it. You'd better be on your best behavior, and that goes for your little girlfriend too. Keep her under control."

"Yup, yup," he agrees. He's almost fully hard just thinking about it and if Stevie told him right now that he had to keep Carol on Ginny's leash, he'd probably do it.

"Alright, time for you to leave so I can get ready," Stevie says, prodding him toward the door. She sees the bulge in his tight jeans and can't resist touching him through the denim just to tease him a little more before he goes back to his girlfriend. He thrusts into her palm and she shakes her head, moving her hand away and giving him a quick kiss without checking to see if anyone was in the hallway. "Glad you came by."

\-------------------------

He comes up behind her during a rare moment alone in her dressing room before the show later that night, wrapping his arms low around her waist. "Jesus Christ, Lindsey, you about scared me to death."

"Were you expecting someone else?" he asks, not letting her go. She shakes her head. "Good."

He knows he's playing a dangerous game here, that she could tell him to go to hell at any moment and then it's right back to the silent treatment of yesterday. But he suspects that she thinks she has the upper hand in this game because of what happened in her room this morning, and he can't resist trying to even the score.

"Don't fuck him."

"What are you talking ab-"

"I don't know who he is, and I don't care," he says in a low, warning tone. Which is a lie, because he knows it's Scott the sound guy and he cares very much, but he doesn't want to get sidetracked by a fight over the finer details. "But I'm telling you, don't fuck him."

"Why shouldn't I?" she asks, voice dropping in volume to match his.

"Because I'm going to have you tomorrow, and I'm going to be the only one."

She swallows hard, struggling to act like she's unaffected by his soft but serious words and his fingers tugging ever so slightly as they run through her hair. "I never said anything about us-"

"Unless you've been screwing someone else. And I'll know if you have." She knew he was telling the truth there. He had a creepy sixth sense for it, like some sort of jealous pervert bloodhound. "So are you going to be a good girl?"

He watches her close her eyes, trying to block him out, but he can feel her breathing getting heavier and he knows he's won. "Yes."

"Yes, _what_?" His fingers curl around her hip, resting on her upper thigh.

"Yes, daddy."

He smirks, allowing himself to press his lips to her neck in a brief victory celebration. She leans back against him, tilting her head to the side, but he just squeezes her ass and walks away. "See you out there."

\-------------------------

All in all, it had been a pretty good day. He didn't make anyone cry. He (technically) didn't cheat on his girlfriend. And as he watched through the hotel door peephole after the show, he saw Stevie returning to her suite early...and alone. Sorry, Scott, guess you're not getting laid tonight.

Yes, he thought, it's a good day to be Lindsey Buckingham. 


	5. want your love and I want your revenge (1979)

**{{This is a continuation of the previous chapter and is definitely NSFW}}**

**_November 1979_ **

"Oh my God! That is SO funny!"

Stevie heard the sound of high-pitched laughter echoing down the hotel hallway the next afternoon and snorted to herself. There went Carol. Now how long would it take for Lindsey to show up at her door?

She didn't even get a chance to answer her own question before someone started knocking. There were days when she would make him stand out there and wait for a minute or two, just so he wouldn't expect her to always come running, but today isn't one of those days.

He's standing at her door in nothing but sweatpants and flip-flops, his hair messy like he just rolled out of bed. It's the closest she's come in weeks to waking up next to him and she loves it. She reaches her hand out to pull him inside and then pushes him up against the wall, standing on her tiptoes and kissing him hard.

"Hi, hey Stevie," he gasps out, trying to greet her like a polite guest, but she doesn't bother to reply. Keeping a tight hold on him, she walks backwards until her legs hit the side of the bed. She lies down and he hovers over her on all fours. "It's rude not to say hello."

"Hello. Now kiss me." She's done playing hard to get after that little stunt he pulled the night before. It can be infuriating, the way he acts like he has any right to dictate what she does with her life, but damn if he doesn't know just how to get to her. That whole grabbing her from behind, telling her to be a good girl thing that went back to their early days living together (and caused her to be late to work on more than one occasion when she couldn't resist showing him just _how_ good she could be). She had even tried to catch him alone after the show last night, but he and Carol had gone back to the hotel as soon as he had gotten offstage. Probably told her he'd make it up to her for ditching her today. How disgusting.

But now he's all hers, kissing below her collarbone and down in between her breasts while she runs her fingers lightly over his stomach and just beneath the waistband of his pants. She can see his erection already straining at the front of his sweats and it pleases her to know that he's just as worked up as she is. She's wet and ready for him to fuck her right now; she's been ready for hours. It'd been almost three weeks since she'd had him and even though it's not like she'd been celibate that whole time, no one she'd been with could compare to him. They never could.

"Hey. Baby." Remembering the last time they'd been together, how he had tried to get her to cancel her trip and stay with him for a week after he'd spent the night at her place, she puts her hand on his chest to get his attention. "This is only for today, okay, this isn't..."

He nodded and mumbled something in understanding, pushing her robe to the side to reveal her bare shoulder. "So where's your 'friend', hmm?"

"In the drawer," she says, giggling nervously as he props himself up on one arm in order to lean over and retrieve what he was looking for. Ironically enough, she had considered using it last night just to take the edge off so that she could get some sleep, but it didn't hold any interest for her. She wanted Lindsey or nothing.

Vibrator in hand, he sits back down on the bed with his legs tucked underneath him. "Can I, uh, can I try something?"

"Try what?" she asks, unsure of what exactly he's thinking about.

"Well, first you should take this off," he says as he tugs on the sash of her bathrobe. She looks skeptical, almost shy, as she unties it and shrugs the thick garment off of her arms, and he kisses the top of her head to reassure her. "Lie down. On your stomach."

"Linds..."

"I'm not going to do anything weird, I promise. Just trust me."

She relents, lying down and resting her forehead atop her arms. She has no idea how she's supposed to get herself off like this and she really wishes he'd just hurry up and fuck her, but she's willing to play along for now.

He switches the toy on, holding it against the palm of his hand as he tests out the different settings. He really _had_ wanted to see her using it on herself (and had already jerked off while thinking about it twice in the last 24 hours). The first time he watched her touching herself, he had been pretty sure his dick was about to explode. She'd been rougher about it than he had expected, tugging on her nipples and pinching her clit hard while she fucked herself, and he was basically already coming before she even let him get his hand around his cock. He hadn't even known that was _possible_.

But he'd heard her warning that this was just for today loud and clear, even though he'd pretended to ignore it. It stung, the reminder that this was basically nothing more to her than a way to pass the time on a free afternoon, but he wasn't going to let himself be discouraged. If he made her feel good enough, he might not have to wait another three weeks before she came back to him again. And if this thing was what made her feel good, then so be it.

She lifts her head, tensing up in surprise when she feels the vibration against her shoulder blade. "Sssh, it's okay. Just relax."

She lays her head down again as he continues rolling the wand along the length of her back. He watches her reactions carefully, doubling back when it seems like he's hit a sore spot and then kissing the same area as he feels her body go slack beneath him.

"So perfect," he says quietly as he presses his lips against the base of her neck, brushing her hair to one side. He drops soft kisses all the way down her spine until his mouth is just above her ass. Then he sits up again, reaching for the still-buzzing massager and running it over the curve of her backside and her upper thighs.

She lets out an excited little squeal, instantly lifting her hips off of the mattress so her butt is up in the air. He groans at her reaction, palming his cock as best he can with his left hand as she rises up on her knees and spreads her legs further apart. "You like that, baby?"

"Yeahyeahyeah," she pants, and he presses down harder as he rubs it over the fullest part of her ass. Her legs are shaking, struggling to support her, and he can see that her inner thighs are already soaked with her fluids. He's tempted to bury his head in between her legs and lick them clean, but that would involve taking his eyes off of her and he can't do that when the way she's spread out in front of him is absolutely fucking obscene. So instead he flips the little button on the handle of the slim wand to a higher setting and drags it up and down the inside of her thighs, careful not to let it make contact with her pussy.

She's basically wiggling her ass in his face now, hips raised higher as he pays special attention to the crease where her butt meets the back of her legs, and it reminds him of how long it's been since he had her like _that_. Probably not since the Rumours tour. He wants to so badly, but he knows she needs time before she's ready to take him and he doesn't think either of them have the patience for that right now, so he settles for brushing the thumb of his free hand across her hole. She shudders and he hurries to reassure her. "Just this. Is that alright?"

"Fuck yes," she whimpers, and he does it again as the vibrator keeps rumbling against her ass cheeks. "Lindsey..." Her arms have given out and she's got her head resting on them again as she clutches the pillow, knuckles ghostly white. "Please. I need it, please."

"What do you need?"

"I need you to let me come, damnit." She sounds like she's about to cry from frustration, and when he roughly flips her onto her back he can see that her face is flushed red and her eyes are watering.

"No."

"What the fuck?"

He holds the wand out of her reach as she tries to grab at it. "No. I want you to beg."

"Please," she repeats, and he lets the buzzing head rest against her pubic bone. "Let me come for you, daddy, please. I swear I was a good girl. _Please_."

Quickly adding this to his mental folder of jerk off material- which, let's face it, pretty much exclusively featured her- he takes one of her legs and hitches it over his shoulder. Now he can see all of her, pink and swollen and dripping wet, and the only thing keeping him from shoving his dick inside her right now is his desire to see her come like this with nothing blocking his view.

Without warning he rubs the head of the toy over her pussy, not letting it touch her clit for any longer than it takes for her to arch her back sharply off of the bed. She's got her head thrown back and her hands groping both of her breasts, squeezing them as he keeps teasing her by thrusting the vibrator against her sensitive little bud.

" _Linds_..." When he can tell that she's close, he finally lets it rest directly on her clit and watches in amazement as her whole body spasms again and again. She's so beautiful and she's all his, at least in that moment, and he's so grateful for the thin hotel walls that ensured everyone else on their floor would know she was his too.

He finds the switch on the wand and turns it off so that he can hear her sighing to herself as she gradually comes down from her high. She's got one arm thrown across her face, covering her eyes, and she's grinning as she reaches for his hand with her other arm. "I thought you were supposed to watch _me_ doing that."

"I, ah. I couldn't help it," he says. There'll be another time for that. Right now he doesn't want her to have any reminders that she can get herself off without him, whether on her own or with anyone else she's been fucking on this tour.

She's recovered enough to push herself up on her knees, turning her attention to him. There's a prominent dark spot on the front of his light gray sweats and she smiles seductively when she sees it, purring into his ear as she hooks her thumbs beneath his waistband. "Fuck, baby...all that for me?"

"God. Yes," he growls. He quickly takes over and sheds his pants, and she wastes no time climbing into his lap and straddling his thighs. She rubs her hand over his cock, her palm now covered in his arousal, and then reaches down to cup his balls.

"Mmm. I bet you wanna fuck me real bad, don't you?" He grunts something that she doesn't understand and she gives him a little squeeze. "You feel like you do. Look how wet you are."

"Stevie...damnit..."

"You gonna fuck me hard with that big dick of yours?" She starts stroking him from base to tip again, feeling him twitch in her hand while the fingers of her other hand scratch lightly over his chest.

"Y-yeah. Yeah. Want you," he manages to choke out.

Pleased that she's managed to reduce him to a squirming, stammering mess, she mimics turning to face away from him. "From behind?"

"No. I wanna be able to see you." She lets him push her back down toward the mattress and he's practically balls-deep inside her before her head even hits the pillow. He pulls out almost completely and then slams back into her again and again, fingers digging into her small hipbones.

He slows down enough to take one of her breasts into his mouth, sucking hard on her nipple as he keeps thrusting into her, and she lets her nails drag down his back without caring if she leaves scratch marks. Actually, she hopes she does. And she hopes Carol notices it.

"Ohhh. Baby, you feel so good," she moans. She pushes her breasts together with her hands and he slides his tongue over the dip of her cleavage, licking the salty beads of sweat from her skin before he goes back to kissing each of her hardened nipples. "But you've gotta be sure you pull out, you can't-" He glances up at her suspiciously, not accustomed to being told this. "I forgot my pill. You can come on my tits if you want..."

He smirks like he's satisfied with this arrangement and starts moving faster, biting his lip in concentration as he circles her clit with his fingers. "No one else fucks you this good."

She shakes her head side to side in response, bending her legs so that her knees are almost touching her chest and her ankles are crossed behind him.

"Nobody. I'm the best you'll ever have." When she doesn't reply quickly enough, he slaps her thigh just hard enough to get her attention.

"You are, you are," she says, crying out as he starts rubbing her clit steadily in time with his thrusts, and they both know she's telling the truth. She's never found anyone who's able to match his intensity, sexually or otherwise, and she'll never stop craving being the focus of that single-minded dedication.The jealous, possessive bullshit got too tiring to live with day to day, but here he still owns her. "Oh! Ohhh...fuck..."

"Think about that before you let someone else stick their dick in you," he growls, feeling the vibration of her screams inside his mouth as he bites down on her neck while she comes.

He rocks his hips against hers twice more and then reluctantly pulls out as he was told to, kneeling astride her and taking himself in hand. She looks up at him with blown pupils as her fingers travel up the inside of his leg. "Mmm...Linds. You look so hot like that. Is that how you touch yourself when you think about me?"

"Always," he says, because there's no sense in lying. Jacking off by himself is never quite like this, though, looking down at his cock coated in her wetness while she rubs his balls.

"C'mon, baby. Let me watch you come all over my tits."

He jerks forward into his fist, forcing his eyes to stay open so he doesn't miss the sight of his release spattering across her breasts. Marking his claim on her. It might not be visible like the bruise blossoming on the side of her neck, but he'll remember it. And more importantly, so will she.

She reaches up and takes his face in her hands, kissing him with an unexpected sweetness. He nuzzles her nose with his own and then drops kisses on both her eyelids. "So beautiful."

"So are you," she says, her fingers gently combing through his hair.

He closes his eyes and leans into the touch, enjoying this rare moment of unabashed affection. "Lemme go get something to get cleaned up with, okay? I'll be right back."

"Mmm. Better hurry," she says with a giggle, and he knows she's joking but he moves quickly all the same. She has a way of disappearing on him, after all, and he doesn't want to miss a second before she slips away and leaves him wondering just how much of this was real.

He comes back from the bathroom, washcloth in hand, and he's pleased to see that she hasn't moved. She smiles lazily at him as he wipes away the mess that he left on her chest and when he's done, she takes the cloth from him and rubs it over his spent cock. Once she's cleaned him off she leans over so that her head is in his lap, long blonde hair blanketing his thighs, and gives him a few soft kisses along his length. There's no way he's going to be able to get it up again this soon, but it's equal parts sweet and erotic and it still sends a rush of desire down his spine.

She lifts her head after a moment, draping her warm body over his. She knows she should tell him to leave, to get back to his little girlfriend before he himself decides it's time to go. _Don't give him hope, don't give yourself hope._ But she's not ready to kick him out just yet.

"I bet that felt good, hmm?" she purrs, fingers skating over his chest. "Fucking me like that?"

"Always," he says, taking her hand in his and kissing her fingertips.

"I could tell you needed it. I guess she must not do it for you, huh? Not like I do."

"Steph."

She ignores the warning in his voice, rubbing her thumb over one of his nipples. "It's true, though. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"Just. Don't, okay?"

"Good thing I love when you get rough with me. My big, strong man," she teases, giggling when he rolls his eyes. She reaches up and strokes the stubble on the side of his jaw. "Maybe this time you'll be good and then I won't have to keep you waiting for so long again."

"Enough," he snaps, pushing her off him and onto her back. So she admits that it's all a game to her, some twisted experiment to feed her ego by seeing how high he'll jump at her command. She knows that he's still weak for her, just like he's always been, and she sees right through the facade of his blissful relationship with Carol despite how hard he's tried to convince her that he's happier now than he ever was with her. 'Be good'. What the hell does that even mean? There's no pleasing her. She gets angry at him, so he leaves her alone, and then she's mad that he's ignoring her. He defends himself, and she cries and throws a tantrum and then won't speak to him. He tries to be nice to her, and then she gets pissed because she wants to be left alone. On and on until he does something right, which usually involves getting her off, and then she's sweet as can be. Until she's not, and then the cycle begins again.

Fuck that.

He kisses down her torso from her collarbone to the patch of dark blonde curls at the apex of her thighs, ignoring how she's still laughing softly to herself. He spreads her legs apart and her mood instantly shifts. "Lindsey, no."

He ignores her, lapping at the wetness coating her inner thighs as she whines. "Linds. What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?"

"I can't. Not again." After two intense orgasms in a short period of time, she's over-stimulated and still too sensitive to be touched. When she feels his mouth on her outer lips, she whimpers and tugs on his hair to get his attention, causing him to briefly pull back.

"You can. Fuck, you're still dripping," he says, licking the entire length of her slit to prove his point. She hisses when his tongue makes contact with her clit, attempting to wriggle away from him, but he puts a hand on her hip to hold her in place. "I'm not stopping until you do."

She keeps halfheartedly squirming against his mouth while cursing him under her breath, and it's more for show than any sort of actual resistance, which just serves to piss him off even more. It's always an act with her. She knows she's never going to find anyone better than him, but she'll treat him like he's disposable to her until she decides she needs him again, and he's tired of it. Before he was trying to remind her of what a good fuck he was, but now he just wants her too sore and fucked out to even think about having anyone else warming her bed tonight.

He licks her clit again and she tries to scoot backwards, pushing on his forehead. "Goddamnit, I-"

" _Stephanie_." She freezes in place, surprised by the use of her full name and his sharp tone. " _Enough_." He's got both hands grabbing her hips, pinning her to the mattress, and his voice is calm but serious. "Now you're going to be a good girl and come for daddy like I told you."

Her body goes slack underneath him just like he knew it would. She's so damn predictable; that was almost too easy. He wraps his lips around her clit and sucks on the swollen little bud, roughly shoving two fingers inside her as she cries out.

His tongue feels sharp, prickly like the stubble on his face when it scratches her sensitive skin. She tries to move, whether toward or away from him she's not sure, but he's got such a tight hold on her that she knows she'll have finger shaped bruises on her hipbones for days. He's fucking her with three fingers now and it's simultaneously a blessing and a curse that he knows her body this well, knows exactly how and where to touch her to make her come undone. It makes it so hard to keep pretending that she doesn't want this, doesn't need him, when he's got every part of her begging for release.

There's no slow build-up to her orgasm, just a strong sharp burst of ecstasy that's an equal mix of pain and pleasure. He feels a final rush of moisture covering his fingers and then pulls them out, letting her push his head away from her now that he knows he's made his point.

She's seemingly in a daze and he swings his legs over the side of the bed, not sure what to do. He doesn't really want to wait around for her to tell him to leave and then watch as he gets dressed and shuffles out obediently like a good little lapdog. Sometimes at night she'll let him stay until she falls asleep, but only with the implied threat that he'd better be out by the time she wakes up. Otherwise she might have to actually say goodbye, and God knows she can't do that when it might involve expressing real feelings.

He decides to make it easier (on her? on himself?) and stands up to look for his pants when he hears a small voice from behind him. "Linds?"

"Hmm?"

"Do...do you have to go right now? Or maybe...I don't know, you could stay for a while?"

He's about to ask what she's _really_ after, what game she's playing now, but something in her voice makes him turn around. She's got her head bowed, looking at her fingers as they play with a loose thread on the comforter, and when she finally looks toward him he's surprised by what he sees. Fear. She's genuinely afraid of him rejecting her.

He thinks about ignoring her and walking away, dismissing her like she's done to him so many times. She probably deserves it. But he can't. Not just because he doesn't want to leave, not now and not ever, but because she's taking the risk of letting him see the real Stevie that more often than not stays buried under layers of time and heartbreak.

"Yeah. I could do that," he says cautiously. "I've got a few more hours, at least. Are you hungry? We could-"

"Just come here?"

"Of course, whatever you want," he says, and he really means it.

He sits back down on the bed beside her, reclining against a few pillows with his legs stretched out in front of him, and she rests her head on his bare chest. She's lying on her side in the fetal position, reminding him of all the nights when he suffered through being kneed in the thigh a dozen times because he didn't have the heart to tell her to move. "Hey Linds? If I fall asleep...will you wake me up before you leave so I can say goodbye?"

"Sure thing, angel."


	6. the joy of rediscovering you (1997)

**_April 1997_ **

"Can I just say something? Can I admit I was wrong?"

The latter sentence sends Stevie's head turning abruptly toward the woman in the driver's seat. "You're what now?"

"I was wrong," Karen repeats. "When I said there was no way you didn't have sex with Lindsey when you went over to his place on Valentine's."

"I keep telling you that! We fell asleep. Literally fell asleep and when we woke up, it was almost 6 AM."

"And I thought you were full of shit. But now I know you were telling the truth. Do you want to know how I know?"

"Uh, because you realized I wouldn't lie to you about that?" Stevie guesses.

"Oh no, I still think you would. But I know you didn't this time. Did I ever tell you that I went to 13 years of Catholic school?" Stevie nods and she continues. "So at my high school, the rule was that the front of your body had to be a Bible's width away from the front of anyone else's body, if they were the opposite sex. So you could hold hands, but no hugging or sitting on someone's lap or dancing too close together. And I guess it was supposed to keep kids focused on the Lord, but really all it did was make really creatively horny teenagers. Girls would sit back to back with their boyfriends on the lawn and kinda hump each other's backs. That sort of thing. It was bizarre. It would've been less sexual if they were just making out, but-"

"I don't get where this is going, Karen."

"What I'm saying is, that disgusting display I just witnessed back there- that tells me once and for all that you haven't had sex with him yet."

Stevie shakes her head and pretends she doesn't know what Karen was talking about. When rehearsal had finished that evening, Lindsey was waiting with her behind the building while Karen went to get the car. She had her arms wrapped around Lindsey's waist, forehead touching his chest as he rested his chin on the top of her head. "One more day and then we have the whole weekend together."

"Are you still coming to my place for dinner tomorrow night? I've gotta remind Karen she doesn't have to wait around for me here."

"Wouldn't miss it. Is she actually gonna trust me enough to let you get in my car?" he joked.

"Don't worry, she'll be waiting at home and if we're not back in a certain timeframe, I'm sure she'll go looking for us."

He smiled and held onto her a little tighter. "Can I get a kiss before she comes?"

"Just one?" Stevie asked, grinning up at him.

"Hmmm, I'll take however many you're offering."

She rose up slightly on her toes as he leaned down to kiss her. "No tongue."

"No tongue," he repeated before she lost herself in the kiss, her fingers moving slowly through the curls at the base of his skull. His breath smelled like garlic but it wasn't enough to make her want to stop kissing him, especially when she knew it was her fault for making him so much pasta that he'd had leftovers for a week. Their noses bumped and she giggled, pressing their lips together again, and then she felt his hand creeping lower on her back-

"Hello?" Karen called out from the open driver's side window, causing them both to jump and quickly separate from each other. "I've been sitting here for five minutes trying not to watch you two making out, and I really can't take it anymore."

"One more minute!" Stevie said to her, trading embarrassed grins with Lindsey. "Talk to you in a few hours? If I'm not grounded, that is."

He shook his finger at her like he wasn't an equally willing participant. "Course. I love you, angel."

"I love you too. So much." She gave him one more kiss on the cheek, neither of them wanting to let the other go until she heard Karen announcing that 'time's up'.

"And I can't believe I'm saying this," Karen continues, interrupting Stevie's daydreaming, "but honestly, it's getting to the point where I kinda wish you _would_ just have sex, because maybe then you two would be slightly less nauseating."

" _Now_? I haven't even been back here for two weeks yet!"

It was 12 days, to be exact, since she had returned to California to begin rehearsals. She was fresh off of six weeks spent bouncing between Arizona and Florida, but a piece of her heart had been in LA with Lindsey the entire time. They had decided before she left that they would stay in touch while she was gone, and although she trusted that he really would call this time like he had promised, part of her was still afraid he'd suddenly change his mind about their relationship before she could return. As it turned out, she had nothing to worry about. He called her almost every evening, even if it was just to say goodnight and listen to her talk about her day, and he ended every conversation by telling her that he loved her and he missed her and he couldn't wait to see her again.

She missed him too, but knowing that she would be coming home to him allowed her to enjoy her time away without worrying about everything ahead of her. She spent long days with her toes in the sand, laughing with her girls and enjoying the Florida sun, and then it was back to Phoenix and time to get down to work. While at home she was able to record a couple of solo tracks and work on a new demo for the band, but she also spent as much time as she could with her family. Her little niece was hardly so little any more and she hated missing out on her day-to-day adventures when it seemed like she was growing up faster by the minute.

(She would've loved to have an older cousin, Stevie thought sometimes- someone to keep her company in the midst of so many adults. They could've been like sisters. Samantha would have been turning 17 this year and Jesse undoubtedly would've idolized her. She would be at the age to start planning for college, learning to drive, going out on dates...although knowing her father, that last one wouldn't have been happening until she was at least 35.

So many things she should've been doing, and yet she wasn't destined to do any of them.)

After one last stop, a matinee performance of the kindergartens' Easter-themed play, it was onto the plane and back to LA and Lindsey. He was waiting at her door when she got home from the airport and they had barely been apart ever since. During the week they were together all day in rehearsals, of course, but on the weekends he had spent most of the time at her house. Going out was difficult because it involved trying to keep a low profile, which _definitely_ meant no kissing/hand holding/arms around each other/etc. and frankly, they had enough of that on the weekdays.

She thinks everyone around them is starting to suspect that something's brewing, though. Last week during a break she went over to sit beside Christine, who looked surprised to see her alone. "Where's your shadow?"

"Wh- you mean Lindsey?"

"Who else? He's like a little puppy dog, following you around and walking on his hind legs to get your attention." Stevie tried to look like she hadn't noticed, and Christine shrugged and lit up another cigarette. "Don't get me wrong, I much prefer it to listening to you two bicker all day, so do whatever it is you need to do."

"You're being too obvious," she chided Lindsey teasingly the next day as they sat down to dinner in her dining room, nudging his leg under the table with her bare foot. "Chris thinks you're flirting with me."

"Chris is right," he said, kissing her temple before picking up his fork.

Stevie watched Karen filling up her plate in the kitchen and heading for the living room. "You can come eat with us, you know."

"I'd really rather not," she said, sticking her head into the dining room and rolling her eyes when she saw the two of them sitting close enough together that their shoulders were touching. "But I see why it takes you guys all night to finish dinner...if you kept your hands to yourself for a few minutes, you might actually be able to eat."

"And what fun would that be?" Lindsey called after her as she walked away. "God, Stevie, this is so good. You really oughta try it."

"Nope, it's all yours," she said, even as she gave the fettuccine a wistful look. She spent her weekend afternoons making all his favorites, singing and dancing around the kitchen while he sat at the counter and 'helped' in the same way her niece would, by making a mess and distracting her from what she was supposed to be doing. Sometimes he would start noodling around on the guitar and it almost felt like their early days living together, only in much more luxurious surroundings and with Karen in the next room instead of Richard. It made her happy to feel like she was taking care of him in some small way- so happy, in fact, that it was more than worth having to smell all these delicious scents while knowing that she couldn't have any of it herself. The temptation to cheat was definitely there, but she had to remember that very soon she was going to be naked in front of another person for the first time in years and she needed to look good (and not just 'good enough, or 'good for her age', but _good_ ).

But how soon was 'very soon'? She wasn't quite sure. They had agreed that they were going to take it slow, and so far things hadn't gone any further than kissing and the occasional wandering hand. She wondered if that was the reason why everything was going so well. Ten days of spending almost all their waking hours together and their most serious argument, if you could even call it that, was over Lindsey giving the dogs people food.

"But they _like_ chicken!"

"Of course they do, baby, but it gives them terrible gas and then I'm the one who has to suffer all night when they're sleeping with their little asses pointed toward my face."

He raised his eyebrows. "Then maybe it's time for them to get used to sleeping somewhere else."

"Linds..."

"I'm just saying, I don't know how I feel about that."

"There's plenty of space, you won't even notice they're there," she scoffed. "I put their blanket at the foot of the bed and they just curl up there the way Gin used to. Remember how nice that was?"

"I remember _you_ , not sure about the rest of it," he said, backing her up against the refrigerator and attacking her neck with his eager mouth.

So the temptation was there. The sexual tension was _definitely_ there. It was so unlike any relationship she'd ever had before...and maybe that was what was making it so good. Maybe it meant it would finally all work out for them. There was one thing she knew for sure, though, and that's that she hadn't felt this completely loved in a very long time.

\-------------------------

It was late on a Sunday night, late enough that the dogs had already given up on waiting for Mom and gone into the bedroom by themselves to get some sleep. That left Stevie and Lindsey cuddled up together on the sofa, his arm wrapped around her while she rested against his chest, the two of them talking quietly and relaxing after a long day together. They had gone out for brunch and then drove around aimlessly for a while, blasting their favorite songs from the stereo like they used to do back in college when Lindsey would chauffeur her to and from practice. After that, they took the dogs down to the beach and let them run around for a while. This was Lindsey's idea, so he also got to be the one to hose them off afterwards to get all the sand out of their fur (she tried to get pictures, but she couldn't stop laughing long enough to hold the camera steady). They made dinner together while the dogs dried off in the last rays of the backyard sun, and they even convinced Karen to join them at the table after they promised they'd be on their best behavior- which they were, for the most part.

And now they were back to where they usually were in the evenings, together on the couch with only the dancing flames inside the fireplace to light the room.

"It's getting late," Stevie notes, Lindsey humming in agreement but saying nothing. She closes her eyes until she feels the arm around her chest moving, looking down to find him playing with one of the buttons on her shirt. "Linds..."

"I'm not doing anything," he insists as the tiny button easily gives way, exposing the lacy edges of her bra.

"You're staring."

"I do that all the time." He has a point, he's as bad about it these days as he was when he was an awkward 18 year old. At least now she actually has something for him to stare _at_.

"In that case, I'm wearing nothing but turtlenecks from here on out."

He laughs sharply and then glances behind them, probably to make sure the noise hadn't brought Karen out of wherever she was lurking in the house. "You wouldn't."

"Don't try me!" She pretends that her threat is real even though he's right that she wouldn't follow through, for the same reason that she's been wearing every low-necked top she owns to rehearsal after she caught him openly checking out her cleavage on the first day. She likes the attention, plain and simple, and she loves seeing that she can still get a reaction out of him even when her own self-confidence is somewhat shaky. She likes knowing that he's attracted to her for who she is right now and not for the hot girl from the 70s, that he's seen her when she's been down so far that rock bottom would've been a vast improvement and yet he still wants her anyway.

She nuzzles at his neck and he gives her shoulder a squeeze, repeating what she had told him just a minute earlier. "It's getting late."

"Do you want to make out some more or not?" she asks, pressing two fingers against his mouth. He nips at them and she grins. "Then shut up."

They kiss lazily for a long moment, no longer concerned with the passage of time. The tip of her tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip as she rises up on her knees and he swats at her ass, giving her a stern look for as long as he can tear his eyes away from her chest. "No tongue."

"Yeah, yeah." She tried, she really did, but when their mouths were in such close proximity for such an extended period of time, a tongue or two was bound to get in the way at some point. Nevertheless, she relents and starts kissing along his jawline until she feels him gently nudging her to lie down. "Baby...I think Karen's still here somewhere..."

"She's asleep in front of the TV," he says, nodding toward the next room. He waits until her head rests against the couch cushion, pushing her hair back from her face. "This alright?"

She reaches up and cradles the back of his head in her hand, fingers playing with his curls as she silently grants him permission. They'd mostly been keeping to the 'three feet on the floor' rule that she remembers from her college days, but there's no denying that she likes this much better. Having his weight on top of her feels like an anchor, steadying her even as her heart races when his lips leave her mouth and travel over the thin column of her throat. His thigh rubs against her center and she gasps. "Ohhh."

"Sssh. Don't wanna get caught, do we?" he whispers, which just makes it even harder for her to stifle the noises trying to escape from her lips. She thinks that's what makes the whole no-sex thing bearable, the excitement that comes from feeling like they're dancing dangerously close to something forbidden. It's like how they always seemed to have the best sex when one or both of them were with other people. But this time it's even better because she knows he's all hers, so the thrill isn't tempered by the inevitable guilt.

His lips have long since passed her neck, kissing the tops of her breasts as she arches her back to reveal more of her bare skin to him. He licks along the valley of her cleavage and then back up again, dangerously close to her nipple, and she's aching for him to put his mouth on it. But she knows that as good as this feels, she's going to have to end it soon. She can feel his erection pressing urgently against her leg and while she would feel awfully smug about making him come in his pants like a 15 year old (and she's sure that she could!), she doesn't want to take the risk of Karen choosing that exact moment to walk into the room. Not only would Lindsey never forgive her, but she would probably never be able to have a boy over on a school night ever again. "Linds. Honey, we've gotta stop..."

"I know," he mumbles reluctantly, his face still in between her breasts. "You just...fuck. You drive me crazy."

She sighs in sympathy, kissing the top of his forehead. They take turns being the bad guy who has to reign things in, careful not to let themselves get too out of control, and commiserate about their shared sexual frustration in order to keep from going insane before they ever get around to actually sleeping together. "You do too. But I didn't wait ten years just for us to have a quick screw on the couch while Karen's on the other side of that wall."

"Shit, you really know how to ruin the mood," he says, making a face at the mention of the other woman's name.

They hear someone rustling around in the next room as if she'd been summoned, both of them going from horizontal to vertical in record time. "Stevie?"

"Yeah?" She grabs a blanket from off the back of the couch and hurriedly throws it over the two of them to conceal her halfway unbuttoned shirt and his obvious hard-on.

"Oh, look who's still here," Karen says. She eyes Stevie's mussed hair suspiciously but doesn't comment. "Anyway, I'm too tired to drive home so I'm just going to crash in the guest room." Stevie nods and Karen finally turns toward Lindsey. "Please be gone by morning?"

"I'm throwing him out right now, don't worry!" Stevie promises her with a laugh. And while she _did_ follow through on that promise, she was on the phone with him as soon as he got back to his place. Just to make sure he arrived safely, of course.

"Made it home just fine. Only had to pull over for a nap once," he jokes. "I should've just stayed at your house and bedded down with Karen."

"You know...maybe next weekend you could? I mean, not with Karen. Obviously."

"Stevie..." he sighs after a long pause, his voice turning serious. "It's only been two weeks. We haven't even really talked about-"

"I didn't mean it like that. You could stay in the guest room." She would prefer to have him beside her, to hear the steady thump of his heartbeat as she drifted off to sleep, but she wasn't going to push him.

"I don't know..."

"Don't know what, honey? I just...it'd be nice to wake up and have you there."

"It's not like you're an early riser," he points out. "Karen could let me in and I'd be there in the morning when you get up."

"But that's not the same as going to sleep and knowing we're under the same roof together. That's what I want."

"Yeah, but don't you think- we agreed that we're taking it slow, we're getting to know each other, and then you want me spending the night at your house. Those two things don't go together," he says.

"So what, we _have_ to have sex if you're going to stay here? Like it's an expectation?"

"No!" he says in the tone she hates, the _I'm right about this but I can't expect your inferior mind to understand_ one. "But that's what'll happen. And then we're back to 'oh, we accidentally slept together', which is exactly what we said we weren't going to do-"

"Jesus, Lindsey, we're not wild animals with no self control. Give yourself a _little_ bit of credit here."

"Oh, and _you're_ the master of resisting temptation?" She exhales sharply through her nostrils and he relents. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

"Yeah. It was."

"Listen, it's late and we're both tired. Maybe we should just say goodnight now and get some sleep," he suggests, and for the first time in months she's actually okay with him hanging up the phone.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow."

He hesitates, like he's hoping she'll say it first. "Love you, Steph."

"Love you too."

\-------------------------

"And now I don't even know what's going on," Stevie says after explaining the previous night's events to Karen, minus the part where she and Lindsey were messing around right under her nose, "I mean, is he starting to rethink this?"

Karen, who hasn't been able to get a single word in edgewise since her boss's monologue began, looks at her from over the rim of her sunglasses. "Are you seriously doubting whether that man wants to have sex with you? Because if you are...wow. Have I got news!"

"But he-"

"Is ridiculously in love with you. Now I admit, I don't know him the way you do, I have no clue what goes on in that curly head of his most of the time, but trust me on this one. He probably just thinks he's being a gentleman or something like that."

"But I'm right, though, aren't I?" Stevie asks in a way that leaves no room to wonder about what answer she's expecting. "It's not unreasonable to think that we could sleep in the same house and nothing would happen."

"You know what else they used to say in Catholic school? That the Holy Spirit goes to bed at midnight."

"He was still at the house after midnight last night and nothing happened. Mostly."

"I knew I should've left after dinner," Karen says, rolling her eyes. "Why didn't I? Oh yeah- because you begged me not to! Again, I get that you're trying to be mature about this and not jump into bed with him...but I'm not sure how much more of it I can take. And I still can't believe I'm suggesting that you sleep together. I feel like my world has turned upside down."

" _You_? How do you think _I_ feel? This is brand new territory for me. But as much as I want...more, everything's so good right now and I don't want to ruin it. Seriously, Kare, if somebody told me that we could be just like this forever, but in exchange I couldn't ever have sex with him, I'd take it. No hesitation." She's extremely glad that it's not likely to come to that, because there might actually be a _little_ hesitation, but in the end she knows that the security would be worth the sacrifice.

Karen drives up to their usual hideaway behind the building and sees an anxious-looking Lindsey leaning against the wall. "Should I stay here in case it gets ugly?"

"No, you can go. I've got it," Stevie promises her, barely waiting for the car to stop before she's jumping out of the passenger seat. Her younger self would've been icy cold right now, shutting him out while she concocted her revenge or composed the perfect scathing remark. Today she just wants to fix things.

Fortunately he seems to have the same idea. He takes a half-step forward and when she willingly walks into his arms, he wraps them around her and lets out a long sigh of relief. "Shit, Steph, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Linds, it's-"

"Everything's been so good," he says, unknowingly mirroring her words from inside the car just a moment ago, "and I...you caught me off guard, I guess I wasn't expecting it, and I fucked up. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, baby. We're okay," she promises, her small palm rubbing his back in circles.

"These last couple weeks- sometimes I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. I've never been in this situation before, y'know?"

She laughs, patting his arm. "And you think I do? You said it yourself, I'm not exactly an expert when it comes to self-restraint."

"I shouldn't have said that." He loosens their embrace, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. "I meant it before, that I want to get it right this time. This is probably our last chance, but I don't always know what the right thing _is_ , and-"

"Lindsey. Hey. Sssh." She reaches up and rubs the crease between his furrowed eyebrows with her thumb. "We're figuring it out. I'm not going anywhere, alright?"

"I'm sorry."

"I heard you the first time," she says gently, kissing the tip of his nose. "Now relax. You're all tense."

"Oh yeah? Maybe you could help me with that?"

"Mmm, gladly. But first I have something for you." He looks at her curiously as he reaches into her purse and then presses a small metal object into his palm. "Just in case you ever decide you want to have my coffee ready for me when I wake up."

She watches as his face softens, the residual anxiety seemingly melting away as he holds onto the key that she placed in his hand. "You sure about that?"

"Positive. You don't want to have to keep relying on Karen to let you in before noon, do you?"

"Uh, no. Definitely not." He puts the key in his pocket and then clasps one of her hands in between both of his. "About what you said last night...I'm still not sure it's a good idea. But I- I'll think about it, okay?"

"It's alright, I understand. We'll get there."

"Because that's what I want eventually, waking up next to you every morning...you know that, right?"

Her fingers brush over his cheek as she kisses him gently, the spring sunshine at her back. "I know. I want that too."

\-------------------------

She sneaks up behind him, grabbing him around the waist. "Lindsey Buckingham, you are in big trouble."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Oh yes you do," she says, biting her lip to keep from laughing at his flustered expression. "What part of 'we have to be discreet about this' did you not get?"

He looks over toward Mick and Christine, who are engrossed in their own conversation on the other side of the room, and then turns back to her sheepishly. "I know, I know, but I just see you and I can't help myself..."

"You weren't even trying!" she scolds him, even as she can't keep the smile off her face. "In what universe is it normal behavior to kiss someone you work with in front of a camera crew?"

"It's been a long week. I miss you." She understood him all too well. They'd been so busy that they'd barely had time to be alone, other than a few stolen moments here and there, but now the weekend was finally here and she couldn't wait for him to be all hers. "Hey, know what we should do tonight?"

"I can think of a few things."

He gives her a devilish smirk, and she wonders how in the hell they're going to make it to Monday morning with their chastity vows intact. "Remember that place we used to drive up to and watch the stars?"

"Yeah, we saw a lot of stars in the backseat of your car," she says knowingly.

"Exactly."

"You wanna go park at a makeout spot and fool around while we're surrounded by kids young enough to be our children?"

"What, not discreet enough for you? It's the one place we're guaranteed not to be recognized," he points out, and she has to admit he's probably right about that.

"Well, okay...but if you think you're getting past second base, you're out of your mind." He pretends to look disappointed, and she shakes her head. "We're not in our twenties anymore, babe. Your middle-aged back couldn't handle it."

He's about to argue when he sees one of the techs walk by. "Shit, I forgot I needed to talk to him- are you okay waiting around for a few minutes?"

"Yeah, I'll go get my stuff and tell Karen she can leave if she hasn't already, and then I'll meet you back here."

"Good, tell her to go home. To _her_ house," he adds, brushing the back of her hand with his fingertips before he walks away.

Stevie grins to herself, humming quietly as she heads toward her dressing room. She's so lost in her own world that she barely hears Mick clearing his throat to get her attention. "Sorry, I didn't see you there! What's up?"

"Be careful, love."

She frowns at him, not understanding.

"You know he's got himself a girlfriend, don't you?"


	7. the sexiest thing is trust (1997)

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Lindsey slapped his hand against the steering wheel in frustration. He'd been stopped at this intersection for 20 minutes and at this rate, he'd make it to Stevie's house quicker on foot.

Stevie. Everything had been fine the last time he saw her- better than fine, even. They had been making plans for the evening and she said she'd wait for him while he went to talk to one of the techs. When he came back, she was gone.

"She said to tell you that she wasn't feeling well and was going home," Mick said, pausing his conversation with Chris when Lindsey had asked if they'd seen her.

"What? Fifteen minutes ago she was fine. Are you sure?"

Mick shrugged. "I don't know, mate, guess it just came up."

He took off for the parking lot without another word, hoping to spot Karen's SUV, when John drove by.

"Looking for Stevie?" he asked, a slightly pitying expression on his face. "I saw her and Karen drive outta here a moment ago."

"Did she seem sick?"

"Sorry, couldn't tell ya," he said, minding his own business as usual. The man was the English equivalent of Fort Knox, for better or worse.

Lindsey hurried toward his car and sped off in the direction of Stevie's house, all the while wondering what the hell was going on. It wouldn't have been unusual for the old Stevie to have a change of heart for whatever reason and flee the scene without warning, but she was different now. Or so he thought.

Some things had stayed the same, and he had been delighted by all the little reminders that the girl he fell in love with so many years ago was still very much alive and well. She wrote to him while she was away, letters and postcards penned in that familiar cursive and decorated with doodles of flowers and stars and fairies in the margins like the ones she used to draw on her notebooks when she should have been studying.

(One letter from Florida had a panda peeking out of a flower patch at the bottom corner of the page, so small that he almost missed it at first, and he knew it must be her way of telling him that she'd seen the stuffed panda in his studio. He had found it years ago in an old box in the back of a closet and was never sure how it got there in the first place. Stevie had kept it with her from when he first gave it to her until the end of the Tusk tour, even after he blew up at her for carrying it around and Christine slapped him for the second time in less than six months.

Jesus, what a dick he was.

So he found the panda in his closet and left it there for years, not coming back for it until a few months after the conversation he'd had at Stevie's house last year. He wasn't as strong as she was. He wasn't ready to talk about his daughter, _their_ daughter, and he doubted that he ever would be. But he was finally in a place where he could acknowledge that she had existed, if only to himself, and maybe he could have that tangible reminder with him and be okay with it, or at least not want to kick the shit out of everything else in the room every time he looked at it.

He's glad she noticed it was there, but he's even more glad that she didn't say anything about it.)

When he wasn't waiting for the mail to come like some anxious bride hoping for a letter from her husband who's away at sea, he was waiting for nighttime and hoping she'd answer the phone when he called. At first he let a few days go by in between calls, not wanting to seem overeager, but it wasn't long before it became a daily thing. One time he happened to call when she had the whole family over, and her parents insisted on each having a turn to talk to him before they'd give the phone back to Stevie. He loves Jess and Barbara like they were his own relatives and he was glad to hear from them for the first time in years- save for the birthday and Christmas cards that came without fail- but it was mildly uncomfortable just because he didn't know what exactly Stevie had told them about their current relationship.

Even he wasn't completely sure what it was. All he knew was that when she first saw him upon her return to LA, waiting at the front door when she got home from the airport, she hurried toward him as fast as she could in her ridiculous shoes and kissed him with the same fervor and longing that he himself had been feeling for the last six weeks. Everything they had said about going slow was forgotten and he was ready to take her right then...until they were suddenly ambushed by two pint-sized dogs yapping joyfully at their ankles.

"Sorry, they ran past me when I opened the door," Karen said with a shrug, not looking the least bit apologetic.

He knows how important the dogs are to Stevie and made it a priority to win them over, which he's managed to do by sneaking them bits of food under the table and taking them for (very short) runs on the beach. Karen is tougher to please. He understands her protective instinct, her suspicions about this guy with a reputation for being kind of an ass who comes sniffing around Stevie, because he's been there himself a time or two. She tends to act on impulse and sees only what she wants to see in people, and that can be a toxic combo. So he gets it. He just wishes that Karen could see that Stevie's not making a mistake in trusting him, not this time around. At the very least, he wishes she would stop milling around the house while he's there like a parent who's trying to be an unobtrusive chaperone on their daughter's first date.

(He thinks about how he could have had a 16 year old right now and wonders if he would've been that kind of father if she had brought a boy home. Nah. He would be sitting right beside them just so that little punk kid wouldn't forget he was there).

Every morning he waits for Stevie at the back door of the building they've been rehearsing in, and every morning Karen gives him the same disapproving look that says she wishes Stevie would've moved on from him already. Then she drives off to park the car and he has a few precious minutes alone with his angel before the day starts, before it's back to keeping up the facade of friendship and trying not to act like he's stupidly in love with this woman who's had his heart firmly in her tiny hands for 30 years. They hold each other tightly and whisper soft words in each other's ears and make out the way they used to in his garage, away from the watchful eyes of his folks and their bandmates and that bratty neighbor kid who used to spy on them through the fence and yell "EWW" when he caught them kissing. Then Stevie goes inside to get ready and he follows after he's taken a moment to get his dick under control by thinking of that time he saw his parents skinny dipping- again, just like he used to when they were back in his garage. The image still kills his hard-on just as effectively as it did when he was 19. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

If he's lucky, they find time to sneak away during a break and release some of the tension that seems to multiply every time they look at each other. If not, he has to wait until the end of the day to get her alone so that he can steal a few more kisses before Karen drives up to take her away. He lets his palm slide down to cup her ass when they're kissing, pretending that he didn't realize where his hand had wandered, and he tells her he loves her again and again because there's so much lost time he needs to make up for. Not just the years they spent physically apart, but also the thousands of moments when he had her right in front of him but couldn't say the words for fear of being kicked out of her bed- or worse. Now he says it freely, murmured like a prayer for only her ears to hear, and when she says it back to him he understands what it must feel like to have a prayer answered by God on high.

He's become so sentimental in his old age. Good thing she likes it.

Sentimental he may be, but he's also very human. The first thing he does when he arrives home at night is jerk off. It's a thrilling yet agonizing form of torture, spending all day with this incredibly sexy woman and not being able to do anything about it beyond making out like horny teenagers. If he had any concerns before that his libido was waning as he hit midlife, he knows now that that's not the case. Hell, she can casually brush his hand and he'll be half-hard from that alone. Two nights ago he had a dream where she was kneeling over his face, his tongue inside her while her mouth enveloped his cock, and he woke up to find himself shamelessly rubbing up against the mattress and unable to stop himself from coming all over the wadded-up bedsheets beneath him. Jesus, he couldn't remember the last time _that_ happened. Too tired to deal with the cleanup right then, he went downstairs to sleep on the couch. Stevie noticed the stiffness in his neck and shoulders as soon as she saw him in the morning, and the next thing he knew, she was kneading his sore muscles with those same hands that were on his dick in his dreams. And thus the cycle continued.

Part of him, the part below his waist, doesn't understand why he won't put an end to this and have sex with her already. He knows that she wants it as least as much as she does. Last Sunday they were making out on her couch, her shirt unbuttoned enough for him to have a perfect view of her breasts spilling out of the lacy cups of her bra. He kissed every bit of skin he could reach, reveling in the familiar softness, watching the tiny peaks of her nipples underneath her shirt rising and falling as her breathing grew heavier. His tongue darted out of his mouth, licking a thin line just under the edge of the lace, and she let out a gasp that left him rocking helplessly against her thigh.

He knew she was right to put a stop to it, even though it left them both fidgeting uncomfortably beneath the blanket she threw over them to hide the evidence of their activities from Karen. They had agreed that when they finally had sex, they wanted it to be something deliberate that they had decided on ahead of time instead of yet another oops-we-fucked-again encounter like they'd had countless times all through the late 70s and most of the 80s. The sex itself was always amazing, neither of them had any problems in that department, but it never lasted and above all he wants this to last. He thinks she does too. He's been afraid to throw out the word 'forever', but that's where he's at in his mind and his heart, and he's willing to deal with a few temporary cases of blue balls if that's what he stands to gain in the end.

But he still couldn't shake the mild unease that overtook him that night as he drove home. He tried to tell himself that it was just the physical irritation getting to him and that once he got back to his house and rubbed one out, all would be well again. There was nothing to be gained from listening to that voice in his head that reminded him of how good things didn't last, not for him and certainly not where she was concerned. She hadn't given him any reason to mistrust her in these last weeks, and he could hear his shrink's voice telling him that if he wants her to believe that he's changed for the better, he has to be willing to grant her the same courtesy. And he tried. But then when he called her before bed that night, the way he always did, she started talking about how maybe he should sleep at her place and something inside him balked at the idea. She said it wasn't about sex, that she just wanted him there. Right. He'd heard that one before and it always ended with her trying to seduce him (and succeeding). So if that's what she wanted, why the fuck couldn't she just come right out and say it? She couldn't honestly think he'd reject her after all the touches and kisses and flirtatious words they'd shared over the last three weeks. Hell, _she_ had been the one stopping things from going any further just an hour earlier, and now she wanted him spending the night?

But when he pointed this out, _he_ was the bad guy all of a sudden. The comment he made about her not being able to resist temptation was a low blow and he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth, which is why he was quick to end the conversation before he could get himself into any more trouble. He didn't want to hurt her. He just didn't want to start this again, the game playing and the unending back and forth and the empty promises that she made so easily and kept so rarely. _I'll love you forever. We're going to be a real family. I love you, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not an addict. I still love you._

He lit up a joint and laid on his bed in the dark, smoking and staring at the ceiling. Was he setting himself up to go down the same path he'd already traveled so many times? Maybe. Or maybe his paranoia and chronic distrust were getting the best of him. He thought about how she called him out of the blue last year, willing to admit her mistakes and offer an apology without any of the usual conditions attached, without wanting something from him in return. The old Stevie wouldn't have done that. There was always a catch, like those infomercials that are too good to be true because you can't read the fine print that goes flying by at the bottom of the screen.

She was different then, and she could be different now too. Maybe there were no sinister motives. Maybe she was just like him, trying to navigate this unfamiliar territory without knowing what the fuck she's doing half of the time, and instead of cutting her a break he had to go and be an asshole by bringing up something he knows she's sensitive about.

He should probably apologize first thing tomorrow. No. He _will._

\-------------------------

He apologizes as soon as she steps out of the car.

And then without preamble she gives him a key, and he has to hold himself back from asking if this was the key to her actual house- that's how shocked he was. She would _never_ have done that before unless his name was on the lease, not even when things were good and he was at her place more often than his own, not even when she was pregnant with their child. He used to think it was all part of the game, making him knock so that she could be the one who decided whether he was worthy to enter. Now he realizes it was more likely that she was protecting herself, trying to carve out a physical and mental boundary against his admittedly overbearing nature.

She trusts him now, and he's not going to let her down. He's just gotta talk to her and everything will be okay.

\-------------------------

Karen was already standing outside when he arrived, leaning back against the front door with her hand on her hip like she had been waiting for him to show up. "She's not feeling well."

"Yeah, that's what I heard. But I need to see her."

"And I said, she's sick and needs to rest."

"Sick with what?"

"Uh, that's none of your business," Karen says. When he stares her down, silent and unblinking, she relents. "Look, she really doesn't want to see you right now. She said for me to tell you to go home and she'll give you a call later."

"But...why?" he sputters.

"I'm gonna guess it's probably something you did!"

She was having far too much fun lording this over him, and he was fighting the urge to just start yelling up to Stevie's window like a forty-something Romeo. "It's not, we were fine when I left her."

"And you can't think of anything you've done that might have upset her?"

"What? No." What could he have done when he wasn't even there? They'd had that disagreement- he wouldn't even call it a fight- earlier in the week, but that was long behind them.

"Maybe...something you neglected to tell her?"

"Karen, if you-"

"Oh for chrissakes, she knows about your girlfriend!" Karen barks at him, throwing her hands up in disbelief.

"My- wait, what? I don't _have_ a girlfriend."

"Well, that's not what Mick said. And he claims to have met her, so-"

Fucking Mick, always has to insert himself into every situation whether he's wanted or not. "I swear to you, Karen, he doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Hey, I'm not the one you need to be pleading your case to here," she reminds him. He takes her advice and pushes past her into the house, calling out for Stevie as she tries to talk over him. "I tried, Stevie, call the cops on him for trespassing if you want!"

"I'm not trespassing, I have a key."

"And I told her that was a bad idea," Karen says, mostly to herself. "But who listens to me?"

When he gets to the top of the stairs, he knocks softly on Stevie's closed bedroom door. "Steph. Baby. Open up, I want to talk to you."

"And _I_ don't," he hears her say from inside the room.

He suspects the door is open, but he knows all hell will break loose if he tries the knob. Even when her bedroom was technically _their_ bedroom, a closed door was a clear signal that he was not welcome and if he valued his life, he'd stay away. "Please? Just hear me out."

"Weren't you listening to Karen? I have nothing to say to you right now. I'll call you when I'm ready to talk. Goodbye."

"Stevie, this is all a big misunderstanding-"

"What is there to misunderstand? Apparently everyone's met her, except me, so unless you're going to tell me this is some elaborate hoax-"

"So I guess you _do_ have something to say to me, hmm?" he asks, and he can practically see the irritation radiating off of her in waves through the door. "Can I come in and you can say it to my face?"

He rests his forehead against the wall as he waits for her reply. "It's open."

The lights are off except for one small lamp in the corner of the room, concealing her in its shadow. She's still wearing the same clothes she had on at rehearsal, minus her boots, as she sits perched atop her bed with her arms folded and legs stretched out in front of her. She's flanked on both sides by the dogs, who are giving him matching sour expressions as if they know he's the one responsible for their mistress's distress.

There's not enough light in the room to get a good look at her face, but he doesn't need to study her closely to know she's been crying. "Stevie..."

"What?" she snaps, clearly annoyed by the sympathy in his voice.

"Can I sit down?" She tilts her head to the side but doesn't say no, so he climbs up onto the bed and sits at her feet, back against the wall. The dogs keep watching him warily. "If it's okay, will you let me explain? And once you've heard what I have to say, if you still want to kick me out- I'll leave."

"Yeah, fine. We'll see if you can talk your way out of this one."

"All I'm doing is telling you the truth. Because Mick was right, but only halfway. I _was_ seeing someone last fall, I don't know if I'd say she was my girlfriend...it was pretty casual."

"It must have been at least kinda serious if Mick says he met her a few times," she points out, uncrossing her arms to scratch one of the dogs behind the ears.

"She was hanging around while we recorded and that's how she got to know them. Not living at the house, just hanging out. Then Mick invited us to his party on New Year's Eve, and that's the last time he, or any of them, saw her."

"Uh-huh. And what about you?"

"Well. I mean. I saw her a few times after that." She gives him a 'no shit' look and he realizes that he'd better keep talking. "But once you and I...with what we talked about at my house on Valentine's day, I knew that if we were really going to give this a try, I needed to cut things off with her. So I did."

"What did you tell her?"

_Please don't ask me if we slept together after I dumped her. Please._ "What did- oh. I told her that I had a lot of things that were about to change for me, and in order for that to happen, I had to break it off...it was never going to work for her and me long term, and I think she knew that. We were both just getting out of bad relationships, and it was a rebound."

"What if I wasn't around? Would you have kept seeing her?"

"I...who knows." He probably would have, thanks to a combo of inertia and loneliness that would've made staying with her into the path of least resistance. "But it doesn't matter, because you _are_ around. She's not the one I want, alright?"

She shrugs one shoulder. "It's not like we're dating, not technically. You can do whatever you want, it's not up to me."

"Steph." Fortunately for him, he is fluent in Stevie-speak, so he knows that this nonchalant, almost cold attitude is a front. At one point he would've taken her words at face value even though he knew better, just because it was the principle of the thing. _It's what she deserves if she can't be honest with me._ But today he takes a gentler approach. "Okay, now I know you're fucking with me. When has whether or not we were dating _ever_ stopped us from telling the other person what they should do, huh?"

She bites her lip, trying to conceal the corners of her mouth quirking up in a smile. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"End of February."

He can see her absorbing this, mentally walking back almost two months, and her face remains impassive but he can tell that it stings- the idea that there was someone else out there while they were trading I love yous and I miss yous. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"What else are you not telling me? Anything?"

"No." He should tell her that he had a 'moment of weakness', as she always liked to call it, that the allure of one last encounter had been too much to resist. Maybe he had felt guilty about breaking things off and wanted to soften the blow. She was a sweet girl and it wasn't personal, after all. Or maybe it was for less altruistic reasons, that it appealed to his ego when she still wanted to sleep with him after he dumped her. But in the end it didn't matter; it was in the past and he wasn't going to needlessly upset Stevie over something that had no bearing on the present. "Well. I kinda promised her tickets for when we tape the show."

"Mmhmm. Kinda?"

"Well, alright. I did. I mean, she asked and..." He shrugs as if to say 'what else could I do'?

"But it's not a date."

"No. Not at all." This seems to satisfy her, and she nods but says nothing. He reaches for her foot, rubbing gently just below the ankle, and one dog raises its head until it's satisfied that Stevie's okay with him touching her. "I'm sorry, you know. I realize I should've told you about her before someone else did. I mean it when I say it wasn't serious but...I still should've said something sooner."

"Yeah, you probably should have."

"I'm sorry."

She nods again and he knows he's going to have to let her process this in her own time, that acknowledging his apology right now would be too much like admitting that yes, he did hurt her. "Do you still want to stay for dinner? I'm too tired to cook but I know Karen made sure the fridge was stocked."

"I...yeah. If you're okay with that." A third nod. "Stevie?"

"Hmm?"

"You said before that we're not technically dating." Which was the truth, they were somewhere in between _I want us to get to know each other again_ and _I want this to last for good this time_ , floating from one to the other with the shifting tides. "And...that could change, you know."

A final nod, followed by a light kiss on his cheek and the word he's heard (and said) so often as of late. "Soon."

\-------------------------

Dinner was fine, if a little subdued. They kept the conversation light, discussing the dogs' upcoming vet trip and their interview from that afternoon, and he found himself wishing for the first time that Karen had hung around a while longer.

After dinner he insisted on cleaning up, just like he always did, and he tossed a few scraps of food to the dogs in case things still weren't entirely copacetic between the three of them. Stevie had gone into the living room, where he found her lying down on the couch. "You should go to bed."

"Yeah, that's where I'm headed. Are you going home?"

"Is it- do you think- would it be okay if I stayed here tonight?" She lifts her head, looking curiously at him. "I'm not up to anything. I just...remember what you said before? About wanting us to be under the same roof?" He scratches the back of his neck, feeling awkward. "I get what you mean now."

She beams at him, and it's the first real smile he's gotten from her since they left rehearsal. "Yeah, of course. Let me make sure the guest room's ready-"

"Uh," he hums, well aware that he might be pushing his luck right over the edge of the Grand Canyon, "maybe I could...with you? Just sleeping. I swear to God. I'll stay on top of the covers and you can be underneath."

He waits for her to escort him to the door. She doesn't. What she _does_ do is give him another grin as she heads upstairs, waiting for him to follow. "We've always done that anyway, Linds."

\-------------------------

She's sitting on her bed with her journal in hand when he comes out of the bathroom, wearing a long t-shirt that comes halfway down to her knees and plain black leggings. "You never wear pants to bed."

"Yeah, well...surprise," she says, acting almost embarrassed that he noticed. It was true, though- despite how she constantly complained about being cold at night, she always wore shorts or a nightgown because she claimed she couldn't sleep unless she had bare legs. "I'm trying to make myself as unsexy as possible."

He didn't want to tell her that she was failing miserably at that, just like he didn't want to tell her what he had been doing in her shower a few minutes earlier. It made him feel like a pervert, knowing she was right there on the other side of the wall, but it also insured that it didn't take long for him to get the job done. And it _was_ strictly business, just to make sure he wasn't going to wake up the way he did the other night. Not that it had been an unpleasant dream by any means, but it wasn't one he wanted to have right here and now. "How am I supposed to respond to that? No matter what, I'm going to get myself in trouble."

"Just get your ass over here," she says, shaking her head fondly as she puts her pen down and beckons the dogs to climb up onto the bed. "You say one word about them and you're sleeping outside."

He remembers what she told him about them and chicken, and he begins to regret feeding them earlier. "Hey, I don't think they're all that happy about having me here either."

"I guess you're all going to have to get used to each other." His heart soars at her words, at the implication that she still expected this to become a frequent thing. He had asked to stay because he truly didn't want to leave her, that wasn't a lie, but he also didn't want her to be lying awake all night with only her thoughts for company. He didn't want to give her the space to start having doubts while things were still so tentative between them.

She wraps the blankets around her up to her neck, getting settled in her usual cocoon, and when she's done he reaches up and switches off the lamp. He's quiet for a moment and then he reaches over, cautiously stroking her hair. "G'night, angel. I love you."

"I love you too," she answers without hesitation, wiggling around until she's resting against his side. He takes it as an invitation and wraps his arm around her, and they lie there silently facing each other in the dark.

"Steph?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we okay?"

She presses her lips against his and then moves closer to him, head nestled against his shoulder. "We're okay, baby."

With that, she sighs contentedly and closes her eyes. He yawns and then does the same.

At the foot of the bed, one of the dogs makes a half turn before sitting down again, eyes trained on Lindsey. Even after all the chicken, there's something about this guy that's still suspect to her. She'll be keeping watch tonight. 


	8. tried to bring yourself up without involving me (1979)

**_November 1979_ **

"Jesus Christ, Carol! Are you still pissed about that goddamn hippo?"

Lindsey could take it no more. He had been trying to ignore Carol Ann ever since she plunked herself down on the couch as soon as they returned to their room post-show, crossing her arms sternly and making intermittent 'hmmph' noises, but he was at his limit.

He understands now why a married guy doesn't go looking for a mistress on his own street. It's too fucking complicated. Not only to keep your wife from suspecting anything, but to keep them both happy at the same time. It's just not possible. If there's some physical distance between them, then you can stay away from whichever one has you on their shitlist at the moment. But when they're neighbors? Good luck with that.

It's enough to make him wish they were back in the studio recording Tusk, for fuck's sake. At least then he had the option of telling Carol she had to stay home when he needed some alone time with Stevie. He had been 'at the studio' for days at a stretch, only coming back to the house to change clothes, and she was none the wiser. It didn't work like that on the road.

The last long period of uninterrupted time that he and Stevie had together was the afternoon when he sent Carol shopping with Sara. It started with them playing with that vibrator and ended with her waking him up from a nap with his dick in her mouth. She took her time kissing and licking every inch before swallowing him down at an agonizingly slow pace, holding his hips to the mattress and bringing him to the edge again and again before she finally gave into his pleading and let him come.

Since then, things between them had been better than they had been in a very long time. They laughed and joked and flirted with each other backstage and during soundcheck, and he took every opportunity he had to sneak into her dressing room for a quick rendezvous. Any guilt he might have felt was tempered by the knowledge that their last two shows had also been better than ever. Maybe some of it was because they were starting to get more comfortable with the material, but also knew that he just played better when he could still taste her on his tongue. Sure, sometimes it helped to have all that anger bubbling up inside him that he could channel into his performance. This was much more fun, though, being able to trade knowing looks and smiles and stand so close to her in front of tens of thousands of people while thinking _she's mine_.

But then he got offstage and had to deal with Carol, who had barely left his side all week. She could be pretty clueless, but she wasn't completely obtuse, and he could tell that she sensed something was up. He had made her stay back at the hotel during soundcheck for the past three days and she whined about it the same way he used to when his mom wouldn't let him ride his bike to the park with his brothers. It shouldn't have been such a big deal, because she usually stayed behind by choice so she could sleep off the night before or spend more time on her makeup or whatever the hell it was that she did, but now she didn't want to let him out of her sight.

He was considering whether to ask Stevie to skip the after-show festivities next time and come back to the hotel with him. No one would think it unusual that he wasn't there, and Carol never turned down a party. If anything, she'd probably be happy that he wasn't giving her shit about wanting to go out. He thinks Stevie would be down for it, but she can be tricky and he doesn't want her to start accusing him of trying to control her or monopolize her time when he's not doing either one of those things. All he wants is a few hours alone with her. Having a quick fuck before the show is fun, he's got no complaints there, but he wants the chance to really make love to her, to take his time and make her feel worshipped and adored and...no. He can't say it, not even in his head.

Tonight they all had dinner together before the show and then hung around backstage, killing time before they had to start preparing in earnest. Carol was on one side of the room, gambling his money away in a poker game because she was keeping her eyes fixed on him instead of paying attention to her cards. Not that he was doing anything worth watching, just idly strumming his guitar- until Stevie came over and sat down beside him on the couch. "She's not gonna go away, is she?"

"Nope," he muttered, gladly accepting the drink she held out for him. "Not until she gets cleaned out, and then she'll just be back over here wanting my wallet."

"Which I think you left back where we dropped our stuff off before soundcheck. You know, on the other side of the building."

"Why would I have left it- _oh. Ohh._ I get it now."

"God, you're slow." She giggled, reaching over the arm of the couch for a cardboard box that was sitting on a nearby table. "C'mon, play me while we wait."

It was something that one of their bodyguards had picked up in a KMart in Utah, this new game called Hungry Hungry Hippos, and it had quickly become the new obsession among certain members of the band and their entourage. The game was simple enough- you pushed a lever on a plastic hippo to make its mouth open and 'eat' these little white balls, and whoever's hippo had the most balls at the end of the game was the winner. So it was pretty basic stuff, but it became more hilarious and more challenging as the players got more intoxicated, and Lindsey figured that was the appeal behind it. He himself had played it a couple of times and then gotten bored. Mick loved it, but was also terrible at it. John hated it. Christine rarely played, but when she did, she could easily beat any challenger without ever even setting down her cigarette.

Stevie enjoyed it too, and could often be found backstage in a death match with Richard or Robin. But since neither of them were around at the moment, Lindsey was more than willing to put up with it just to spend time with her.

She moved the table over to the couch and arranged it at an angle so that they could play while still sitting side by side. "You ready to lose, Buckingham?"

"Bring it on."

He didn't know if playing dirty was always the key to her success or if she only did this with him, grabbing at his hands and elbowing him in the ribs while she laughed hysterically. But two could play at this game. He started poking her right above the hip where he knew she was ticklish, not letting up until she surrendered. "Say it. Say you're a cheater."

"Fine, I'm a cheater!" she squealed, trying to wiggle away from him. He stopped and she let her forehead drop to his shoulder as she tried to compose herself, still red-faced and laughing.

She didn't see Carol make her way over to them, looking like a little blonde-haired storm cloud, but he did. "What's up, Care? You outta money?"

"I want to play too."

Stevie looked up, and he pulled away as he suddenly realized he was still rubbing her arm. "Fine, go grab a chair."

"No," she said, eyes trained on Stevie. "I want yours."

"My what? You wanna be the pink hippo? It doesn't matter to me." She turned the gameboard so that the pink hippo is facing Carol, who turns up her nose.

"No. I wanna sit where you're sitting. Get up."

"Excuse me? I was here first."

"Carol, just go get a chair," Lindsey said, not in the mood for her bullshit. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Stevie nodding with a smug look on her face.

"No!" Carol huffed, stamping her foot. "Tell her to move."

"You don't have to be so rude to him," Stevie said primly.

"And you don't always have to be hanging all over him!"

"Chill out, Carol," Lindsey warned. She looked at him in shock, sputtered a few times, and then stomped away.

He hadn't spoken to her again until after the show, hoping that she would cool down in the meantime. But now they're back at the hotel and he can tell that she's just as steamed as she was before. She even turned down his suggestion to go out without him, claiming she 'didn't feel good', and so there went his hopes of getting any time alone with Stevie.

Become a rock star, they said. It'll be glamorous, they said. How come nobody mentioned the part where you'd end up fighting with your girlfriend over a plastic hippo?

"It's not about the hippo, Lindsey! It's about how you never stand up for me. You were right there, you saw that your fucking ex was being a total bitch to-"

"How was she being a bitch?"

"See? You always defend her and...she doesn't even give a shit about you, y'know, she's got a new boyfriend and she's obsessed with him, so-"

He sets down the liquor bottle he had just picked up, having tuned out her ranting until he heard the word 'boyfriend'. "Who, Scott the sound guy?"

"No, they're just screwing. She wouldn't date him, he's sleazy."

"How do you know that?"

"I mean, look at him," Carol says, shaking her head like she shouldn't have to explain this.

Lindsey frowns. "But wait. The other day you said you thought he looked like me, just with straight hair."

"Well, John's secretary fucked him before Stevie did, and she said he was sleazy but he gave good-"

"Whatever, I don't care about him." Lindsey cuts her off and picks the bottle back up, taking a long swig. Fucking Scott. "So who's her boyfriend?"

Carol looks conflicted; pleased to be the bearer of such valuable gossip but also annoyed that Lindsey was so invested in what was going on with Stevie. "Some guy named Jimmy who's gonna produce her album. She went to Florida to see him last month and now he's meeting up with her when we get to New York and he'll follow us down to DC and back."

"Says who? How do you know all this shit?" Lindsey asks, each new piece of information feeling like an anvil being dropped on his skull. A producer! She ditched him to go fuck a goddamn producer! No wonder she had been so evasive about who he was. He could sorta deal with the idea that she had been with some suit from the label- one of the old fat balding guys, or even one of the younger men who still had all their hair and hadn't developed a gut yet. They just wanted to wine/dine/69 her because she was cute and when they looked at her they saw (fake) tits and dollar signs. But a producer? Fuck.

Carol's eyes roll somewhere into the back of her head. "Because I have ears, Lindsey, and I hear things. Maybe if you actually ever went out with us instead of coming back to your room and getting wasted by yourself every night, you would hear things too."

"Well, why the hell does he need to be hanging out with her for a week in the middle of our tour? Shouldn't he be, y'know, producing?"

"Why does it matter? He's her boyfriend and obviously if she wanted you to know, she'd have told you he was coming. I can't believe you didn't hear it already when she talks about him all the time. Guess you're not best friends like you thought you were, hmm?"

"Shut the fuck up, alright?" Lindsey slams the bottle down again, taking a step toward her. "You don't know. You don't know _anything_!"

"See, this is what I mean! You get so defensive about her, and I'm sick of it!"

"Then get the hell out!"

"Gladly!" She grabs her purse off of the couch and swings it over her shoulder.

"Hey, where are you going? You said you were sick!"

"Well, I'm better now and I'm going next door to the bar with everyone else who isn't too busy freaking out over their ex-girlfriend! Goodbye!"

\-------------------------

Stevie jumps when she hears Lindsey's distinctive knock on her hotel room door, hurrying to finish washing off her makeup before letting him in. They had originally planned to meet up here after the show, but then Carol got 'sick', so Stevie had gone out for a couple of drinks with the usual suspects before deciding to call it an early night.

She opens the door with a sultry smile on her face. "Wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Surprise," he says, storming past her. "Guess today is just full of surprises, isn't it?"

"Linds, what's going on?" His pupils are blown and she could smell the booze on his breath before he even stepped foot into the room, both his hands clenched into tight fists. She's so confused- everything was fine between them when she left the venue. Had he gotten into a fight with Carol?

"I don't know! Why don't you tell me? Tell me why you didn't bother to mention that your boyfriend, _the producer_ , is coming to visit?" He spits out the word 'producer' in a venomous tone, the kind usually reserved for people who kick puppies or people named Don Henley.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see the permission slip with a line for your signature," she says, the same thing she told him back when he lost his shit over her getting her boobs done. "Who the hell even told you I had a boyfriend?"

"It doesn't matter! Everyone but me knew, apparently, but I'm sure that was on purpose. When were you going to tell me? When I showed up at your door and found you fucking someone else? I bet you would think that was hilarious, huh?"

"Why do you act like I'm cheating on you? You've got some nerve, considering you're the one who goes back to your _girlfriend_ every night." Her feet are aching but she refuses to sit down and give him more of a height advantage than he already has. She's not afraid of him, not really, but it does get intimidating sometimes when he's looming over her. "And maybe I didn't want to tell you because I knew you would act like this, and I don't want to fucking fight with you about him when he's not even my boyfriend. Not that it's any of your business, but he's not."

"And you expect me to believe that."

"I don't really care what you believe!" He didn't deserve the truth from her, but she wouldn't lie to him anyway. She didn't have the time or energy for a relationship right now. Besides Lindsey, her semi-regular trysts with Scott the sound guy were pretty much all she could handle. Scott didn't have much in the way of a personality, but he was fun in bed and wasn't looking for anything serious. Unlike Jimmy, who she could sense was hoping for something more, or Lindsey, who...well. He was Lindsey. "We're not together. Yes, we talk and yes, I'm going to see him this week, but we're not dating."

"Just fucking."

"Lindsey, if you're-"

"So is he producing your album or not?"

"Well, right now it looks that way. But I thought you didn't want to talk about it. Before you told me not to bother you 'with that shit', and now all of a sudden you're interested?" she asks.

"Uh, yeah I'm interested." He picks up a silver flask that's sitting on top of the TV and takes a drink without sniffing it first. "Jesus, you have the worst choice in liquor. Kinda like your choice in men, huh?"

"I still can't get rid of you and we broke up three years ago, so I don't know what that says about you, _huh_?"

He finishes off the offending drink and tosses the empty flask to the floor. "And that's what this is all about, isn't it? You can't wait to prove that you're better than me, than us, so you can quit this fucking band that-"

"I'm not quitting!"

"I did this all for you! I joined this goddamn band because it's what _you_ wanted. If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be here. We wouldn't be like this. We would be _happy_."

He's close enough to her now that she can see his eyes are watery, and she reaches out to gently wrap her fingers around his wrist. "Linds..."

"Don't. Don't you dare talk to me like that," he says, slapping her hand away. "Not when I've done everything for you and this is how you act. Like you're too good, like it's not enough that you're this big star _because of me_. I _made_ you."

"Okay. You need to take your ego down about a hundred notches, cause-"

"You know it's true! You know that without me, without this band, you're nothing. Why do you think every label in town passed on your little project even after you sucked every dick in the boardroom? All that time on your knees and you still weren't getting anywhere."

She looks away from him, eyes focused on an imaginary point on the wall as she chews on the inside of her lip. "I think it's time for you to go."

"And so what now?" he presses on, not budging literally _or_ figuratively. "You fuck this guy and boom, you've got yourself a producer? How long do you think that's going to last? Cause there's no way you can keep him around long enough to get a whole album done. He's gonna get sick of your bullshit- if you don't end up spreading your legs for someone else first."

"Why do you care," she growls through clenched teeth, shaking her head as if it could keep the tears at bay. She didn't fuck him so that he would work with her, and Lindsey knows that, so she's not going to fight with him about it. What Lindsey doesn't know, and what she's not going to tell him, is that the whole reason she fucked Jimmy in the first place was that he reminded her of Lindsey and the way things were between them when they were younger. When he believed in her and wanted her to succeed because they were a team, not just so he could lord it over her head about how selfless he was to keep 'helping' her and how she was nothing without him.

"Because it was supposed to be _our_ thing! _Ours_!" His face turns a deep scarlet, kicking frantically at the wall as if trying to break through to the other side. "But that was never enough for you, was it? Nothing ever is!"

"It _was_ our thing, Lindsey!" she shouts over the sound of his foot hitting the wall over and over, chips of paint and drywall sprinkling over the carpet like snow. She could see marks on his hands as soon as he came in, meaning he'd probably already destroyed his own room before starting in on hers like the immature spoiled child he's always been. "Why is it so hard for you to accept that maybe I want to do something on my own, for myself, that doesn't have _shit_ to do with you? Why would you even- think of it this way. If we weren't in a band together, but we were broken up, would you still assume that you're somehow _entitled_ to be a part of everything I do?"

"If we weren't...well, too fucking bad, because we are! If you wanted out, you had your chance after you told me you were-"

"Lindsey!"

"I would've given you _anything_. I wanted to. We could've changed everything, we could've been a duo again. We could've been a-"

"Will you shut the fuck up?!" She gives him an ineffectual shove to the chest, trying to push him toward the door, but he easily grabs her wrists and holds them together against her sternum. "Let go of me, you asshole!"

"You could've done a solo album then. I wanted to help you. Anything that you wanted, you could've had it, everything we always talked about. But I guess none of that even fucking mattered to you anymore!"

"Please just let go of me," she pleads. His warm breath feels like flames licking at her face, scorching her tear-streaked skin. And maybe she had made a mistake back then. Maybe she should've been less stubborn, should've swallowed her pride and said yes. But she had been scared and overwhelmed and admittedly naive, and it was too late now for regrets.

"It wasn't good enough for you! You didn't want to leave this life. But that's how you are, you wanna come crying to me when you're in trouble, but once that's over, you're gone again. Back to someone who didn't want you," he hisses, loosening his grip on her arms enough for her to escape his grasp as she stumbles backwards on unsteady legs. "And it'll be the same thing again with this guy. Only now you'll have a shitty half-finished album that you don't know what to do with instead of a-"

"If you're so convinced that it's gonna be shitty, then wouldn't you _want_ me to do it so that you can watch me fall flat on my ass? I'd think you'd get a real kick out of that."

His eyes dart from side to side like he's unwittingly walked right into a trap. "Yeah, well, don't expect me to help you this time!"

" _Good!_ I don't need your help, and I don't want it! That's the whole fucking point. I need a life without you, alright? This isn't the old days when we were a duo and a couple and- that's over, okay, _over_. When we're not working, that's where your involvement in my life ends." She pushes her hair out of her face angrily, staring him down with her hands on her hips. "And another thing! If you're so miserable, why are you even here? You can quit this band you hate so much and go live in your studio with Carol. See? You don't even need me. If all you want is someone who's gonna hang on your every word and obey your every command, you've already got her. Oh, but I guess that would make it harder for you to come running to _me_ every time you want to get off, because we both know you can't even get it up for her anymore unless you're completely wasted!"

She doesn't actually know whether that's true or not, but since he's already used _her_ sex life as insult fodder, the least she can do is reply in kind. And as she watches his expression turn from crestfallen to vicious, she suspects that she might have hit upon something.

"You really think that's all I...you know what? Fuck you!" He reaches for the first object he sees, which happens to be the phone, and yanks it out of the wall plug-in before slamming it back down onto the table. The receiver falls to the floor, dangling lifelessly from the cord.

"There, did that make you feel better?" she asks, more annoyed than frightened by his outburst. She picks up the empty flask resting at her feet and holds it up threateningly- if he wanted to throw shit, two could play at this game. "Now get the hell out of my room."

He knows she has a terrible arm, which actually makes her more dangerous because she'd likely aim for the wall but end up hitting him in the face instead. So he holds up his hands in surrender and backs out into the hall, looking her square in the eye like he's facing down a grizzly bear, and then when he's on the other side of the door he kicks it a half-dozen times just for the hell of it.

Once he's gone she drops to the floor and crawls under the table, the useless phone swaying from side to side as she pulls her knees up to her chest and cries.

\-------------------------

"Linds? I'm- Jesus! What the hell? Are you okay?"

Carol returns to find the suite completely dark and assumes that Lindsey must have gone to sleep until her eyes adjust and she sees him sitting ramrod-straight in an armchair, staring directly at her.

"Don't _do_ that, Linds, you scared the shit out of me. I almost had a...hey. Baby." She leans over when he doesn't speak or move or even blink, reaching out to touch his forehead cautiously.

It's only then that he notices the presence of someone else in the room, his vision narrowing to focus in on the woman in front of him. He knows the voice, knows it's not her, but his eyes are still swimming so that all he can see is a black dress and a halo of blonde hair and it looks sososo much like her, to the point where he's not even sure who he's talking to anymore. He grabs her by the waist and pulls her to him, his face buried in the silky material. "Fuck. You came back. I...I didn't think you..."

"I did. I'm here," she assures him. He's completely strung out, sweating like he just ran offstage, and she shrugs her new coat off before the suede can get stained. Everything must have gone even better than she had hoped it would. It's almost enough to make her wish she could thank Stevie personally for being her unwitting ally.

"You can't leave, okay, you can't leave again," he urges her, voice frantic as his long fingers dig into her sides. "I need you here. I love you, so you can't leave. Promise me you won't."

She sinks down to her knees and reaches for the button on his jeans, murmuring reassurances all the while. "You have me, baby, I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

It's not that she's proud of herself. But she knows she did what she had to do.

\-------------------------

Soundcheck had arrived, but Stevie had not. This wasn't unusual- it would have been much more surprising if she was on time, which in Stevie's world meant ten minutes late. Even when they had all been at the venue for hours, when she had been sitting literally feet away from the stage, she seemed to have a knack for wandering away or getting engrossed in something else right before it was scheduled to begin.

The week before, Lindsey had been more forgiving of her tardiness. He had been late as well, the two of them promising each other 'just one more minute' again and again as that minute turned into almost a half hour. It was impossible to say no when her tongue was lapping at the beads of sweat forming under his collar, her expert hands working him back up to full hardness once again before lowering herself down onto his cock, the ruffles of her skirt covering his lap as he reached underneath the chiffon to touch her just above where their bodies were joined. They knew they'd get eye rolls and not-so-gentle ribbing from their bandmates when they finally emerged from their dressing room hideaway with matching flushed faces and lame apologies, but it wasn't going to stop them from taking what they craved from one another at every opportunity they could find.

But it wasn't like that today. He hadn't seen her since they got offstage three nights ago, when she was buzzing around with excitement about whatever pretentious Manhattan club she was going to party at with her new producer. His only consolation was that Jimmy looked about as excited as he himself had earlier that day when Carol had insisted that he go shopping with her. Turns out that everything she had been buying 'for New York' was meant to be worn while buying more shit _in_ New York. She couldn't be caught dead at the Garden wearing an outfit she'd bought somewhere in the midwest, you see. _Christ._

Stevie finally made her appearance 25 minutes after they were supposed to get started, clutching a coffee mug with both hands and looking as dull and pale as the gray clouds that hung in the November sky over the city. "Guess it was finally closing time at the Roxy?"

She turns up her nose at him but doesn't speak, adjusting her mic with one hand while the other keeps a tight hold on her cup. She's got her huge fur coat on, buttoned all the way up to her neck, but she's still shivering and he's not sure if she's sick or strung out.

"You ready for Landslide?" he asks. She nods, sniffling, and he keeps his eyes trained on his fingers as he picks out the song's opening notes and waits for her to come in. And then waits some more. "Goddamnit, Stevie, what now?"

"I. I can't," she stammers. She sounds like she's trying to talk through a throat full of gravel, her speech more like a string of low groans than actual words.

"What the hell's that mean?"

She's got her hand around her neck like she's choking, brow furrowed in discomfort as she turns toward him. "It means I can't. I..."

"It's okay, love," Christine reassures her. "Just take a deep breath and try it again."

She bites down on her lip and shakes her head. "No. Something's wrong. I c-can't."

"Fucking..." She looks so pathetic, standing there shaking with tears in her eyes, but he's all out of sympathy and the sight just makes him angrier than he already was. "Maybe if you spent less time with someone's dick shoved down your throat, you wouldn't have this problem!"

"Oh, like you weren't the one at my door the other night begging me to suck you off! Funny how it wasn't a problem then!" she shouts, taken aback by the sudden strength of her vocal cords.

"You lying little bitch, you know that's not what happened-"

Christine's head drops almost all the way down to her keyboard as she reaches for her ever-present bottle of champagne. "Bloody hell, you two, can we _not_ do this again? Just for today?"

_Go fuck yourself_ , Stevie mouths to him before running backstage, almost tripping over the hem of her coat in her haste to get away.

The remaining band members all give Lindsey the same tired, disapproving frowns. "What? Show me where I'm wrong! She's been on a three day bender with-"

"You didn't have to do that, though," John says. Lindsey sets down his guitar abruptly and heads off in the same direction as Stevie, shaking off John's hand when he tries to reach out to stop him. "Will you just leave her alone, mate?"

Never one to take good advice, Lindsey ignores the chorus of agreement from Mick and Christine and barrels down the hallway in search of the target of his ire. He hears her before he sees her, loud sobs echoing off of the concrete walls, and he peers around the corner to find her in the arms of her producer with her face tucked into the crook of his neck.

"Sssh. It's alright," Lindsey hears him say as he strains to listen over the sound of her crying. "He's an asshole, you know that...you'll be okay, I'll call this guy who...you'll be fine by tonight. You trust me, don't you?"

"Y-y-yeah."

"Then let me take care of it."

He intends to barge in, to break up this bullshit lovefest between her and her new white knight, but then something stops him. Isn't this what he told her he wanted? That he wasn't going to fix things for her anymore?

Let someone else rescue her this time, he thinks. I don't care. I really don't.


	9. so much for going slow (1997)

**_April 1997_ **

As it turned out, Stevie was right.

They spent that night together in her bed and nothing happened, perhaps because they were both physically and mentally exhausted from everything that had gone on recently. He felt like he had dodged the proverbial bullet, something that could have derailed what they were building before the foundation was even completed, and just the thought of it made him feel like he'd been running through a battlefield to escape live fire. He might have avoided injury this time, but he came way too damn close.

He saw the same feeling in her eyes once she woke up, after the haze of sleep had worn off enough for her to remember how they ended up there to begin with. At first she burrowed further into his side, eyes still closed and holding onto the hem of his t-shirt with her small fist, and he smiled as her knuckles brushed over his belly.

"Are we talking yet or not?" he asks, inhaling the scent of her shampoo while his nose rubbed the crown of her head. Speaking before he was given permission was a surefire way to start the morning off on a terrible foot- a lesson it only took him once to learn.

She mumbles something incoherent and he takes that as his cue to stay silent, content to just enjoy holding her. He hadn't been kidding when he told her that he wanted to wake up every morning with him beside her, grumpy attitude and all, because it meant they were together and that's something he knew not to take for granted. Even last night he was steeling himself for the possibility that she might not be there by sunrise, that he'd find her sitting in the kitchen sipping her steaming hot coffee while giving him the iciest of cold shoulders.

"You smell like raspberries," she finally says in a sleepy voice.

"I didn't have much choice. Everything in your shower either smells fruity or flowery, so I had to pick my poison."

That remark earns him her first smile of the day, even before her eyes are completely open. "Then maybe you should bring your own stuff with you."

"Oh? Does that mean I'm going to be invited back?"

She finally looks up at him, apprehension crossing her features for a fraction of a second. "I'm not pissed at you. I mean it."

"Okay. But I wouldn't blame you if you were."

"Well. I might have been a tiny bit pissed." She pushes a lock of hair away from her face, idly twisting it around her finger. "When did you decide you were going to break up with her?"

He feels like this is a question with definite right and wrong answers, but he can't figure out exactly what they are, so he guesses he'll have to stick to the truth. "When you were at my house on Valentine's."

"But you didn't do it for another week or so."

"She was away visiting her parents. I wanted to do it in person."

"That's fair," she says, considering this. "So you were assuming we were going to be able to make this work. Or at least, that I wasn't going to change my mind before I came back here."

"Uh. I guess? I mean, I sure as hell hoped you wouldn't, but of course, I had no way of really knowing..." he trails off, the little voice in his head issuing a silent plea for help.

She trusts him, most of the time. But she also knows him, which means she knows that this 'casual' relationship was probably more serious than he was letting on. The man didn't really know how to do casual all that successfully. He was the kind who not only asked a groupie for her phone number after she got done blowing him, but also called her the next afternoon, much to Mick's astonishment and chagrin. (He never _had_ been able to successfully teach Lindsey his ways.) So for him to break it off with this other woman when things were still tentative between them, when she could've easily backed out and left him with no one, was a major show of faith.

"Listen," he says when she doesn't respond, reaching for her hand. She takes it in both of hers, pulling them to her chest. "All I knew was that this is what I'd wanted ever since you got out of rehab. Well, before that too...but once I knew you were going to be alright, that's what I was hoping for. So there was no way I could _not_ take that chance once I had it."

"Okay baby. I believe you." But it wasn't about the girlfriend. Not really.

He frowns and moves his head closer to hers, as close as he can get without going cross-eyed looking at her. "But...? There's something you're not telling me."

There were more than a few things. It started with the way Mick looked at her when he gave her the bad news, the same vague pity she had seen so many times on everyone's faces when Lindsey would start screaming at her in the studio or when she'd walk into a room to once again find him dry humping Carol Ann. And as she sat in the back of the SUV yesterday and cried to Karen the whole way home, it felt too much like that awful day when she found out he had actually proposed to that bitch. Maybe not quite that dramatic- for starters, she wasn't under the influence of a potent cocktail of mood stabilizers, painkillers, sake bombs, and what she didn't know at the time were pregnancy hormones- but equally as unexpected. And that was the crux of it, how she didn't see it coming. Everything had been going so well...how many times had she said that in the last three weeks? How many times had everyone else around her said the same thing? Now she wonders if she was jinxing herself or, at the very least, setting herself up for inevitable disappointment by expecting this would continue forever. God knows it wouldn't be the first time she's done that.

"Steph? Talk to me?"

"It's all happened so fast. We went from barely seeing each other, barely speaking for ten years, and then literally overnight we're with each other all day every day." It wasn't an exaggeration. They spent the whole day in rehearsals together, and then they went home and talked on the phone until one of them (Lindsey, always Lindsey) went to bed. From Friday night to Sunday night they were with each other constantly except when they were sleeping. It was like when they first moved to LA, but even then they had time apart when she went to work. Then that changed once they joined the band, and it eventually became unbearable. She remembers that part all too well.

"I- what?" he asks. "I thought this was what you...we were taking it slow. We still are. We haven't even-"

"Okay, so maybe it really isn't that fast, I don't know. But for me, that's what it feels like. I mean, I haven't done a hell of a lot of _anything_ for the last couple years other than have tea parties with my niece and sit at the piano by myself. Christ, I haven't even had sex in two and a half years."

His eyebrows shoot up somewhere near his hairline. "I'm...how?"

"How?" She laughs to hide her discomfort with the look he was giving her, a mix of amazement and disbelief and an obvious desire to jump her bones. "It's surprisingly easy to just _not_ let your genitals come in contact with someone else's."

"C'mon, seriously. I know you said you'd been single for a long time, but- no one?"

"Not really. I went on a few dates last fall, but nothing happened." It's not that the opportunity wasn't there. She even had one guy back to her house after their second date, opened up a bottle of wine, they started kissing- and then she sent him packing before it could go any further. She's still not completely sure why. "I guess it just didn't feel right. Maybe my subconscious was telling me that after I waited this long, I might as well hold out for someone who I was sure was going to rock my world."

"Oh yeah? D'you know anyone like that?"

"I might," she jokes, shrugging one shoulder and pretending to be unsure. She's definitely not going to mention her other close encounter earlier that spring in Phoenix when, contrary to what she assured him of on Valentine's day, she got propositioned by Don after they went out to dinner together. When she questioned how his new wife would feel about that, he said 'she's not interested now that she's pregnant- you'd be doing her a favor.' She then politely declined. Not that she hadn't been tempted for a moment- he certainly wasn't going to rock her world, but at least she knew ahead of time what she was going to get. She'd like to think that she turned him down because she was a changed woman, that she was done being someone's mistress, but it was probably out of a (maybe premature) sense of loyalty to Lindsey than anything else. She wasn't going to tell him she loved him and then jump into bed with someone else later that night. Not this time, at least.

He chuckles, but there's no smile behind it. "Does _this_ feel right?"

"It does. Absolutely."

"Then why do you say it's too fast?" He's trying to keep his emotions in check, but all the warning signals in his head are on high alert. She's pulling away, he feels it, and he's sure this is her way of punishing him for last night. She won't admit out loud that she's pissed, but she'll sure as hell find another way to show it. "It doesn't make sense, I thought this was what you wanted."

"I didn't say it was _too_ fast and yeah, it is what I want. But..." She doesn't know how to make him understand without actually telling him what it was that scared her. Up until yesterday, she didn't realize just how attached she had become in such a short period of time. She had no idea that the thought of there being someone else would hurt _that_ much, not when she was clinging to the fiction that they were somehow 'just friends'. Even once he promised her that the girlfriend was history, she wasn't completely comforted. He could still change his mind and remember how much he hated her, that she was nothing but the disgusting junkie who took away his daughter, and he would be gone. He had left her before when she needed him the most- when she was pregnant, after they lost Samantha, when she got out of rehab- and despite his apologies, she was certain that a part of him still felt like she deserved it. In his eyes she had abandoned him from the moment she 'gave up' on their partnership and insisted they join the band, so anything that followed was simply her rightful punishment.

"But what?" He turns over onto his back, hand clutching his hair in frustration. "You've gotta give me something to work with here, Stevie, because I don't know what the hell you expect me to do."

She wishes she knew that herself. 'You jump into everything with your whole heart first, Teedee,' she remembers her mother saying to her once. 'Impulsivity', as her shrink from rehab put it much more bluntly. His last piece of advice for her as she left? 'If it's a good idea today, it'll still be a good idea tomorrow.' And she's trying to live by that, to not rush into things where she'll inevitably get her heart broken or break someone else's, but sometimes it's a battle she just doesn't want to fight. "I don't know either, okay? I don't."

He watches her shift so that she doesn't have to look at him, heels of her hands pressed against her eyes, and he starts to think he may have been wrong. She's not pissed off, she's not purposely trying to vex him- she's afraid. She's been trying to tell him, in her own roundabout way, and he wasn't getting it. "Hey. Steph. I'm not going anywhere, alright?"

She moves her hands away from her eyes and turns her head toward him, face impassive.

"I mean it. As long as I know that this is still what you want, we can take our time getting there," he promises, despite still not totally understanding how it would be possible for things to go slower than they already are. But he knows that sometimes he needs to _not_ trust himself, to recognize his first instinct and then do the exact opposite, and he thinks that this is one of those times. "I told you before that we could start off by being friends, and I meant that too. If it's too much too soon, we can change that." He forgets that for years she was relatively isolated, especially by her standards, and so she's probably lonely and overwhelmed all at once. "And you're right, we've seen a lot of each other lately. If you want some breathing room, it's okay. I'm fine to hole up in the studio while you and Karen take the dogs to get makeovers-"

"Manicures!" she corrects him. She had seen an ad for a place where dogs and their owners could get their nails done side by side, and she was dying to try it out. (Lindsey had not been so enthusiastic about the idea of tagging along.)

"How is that any different?" She looks at him like that was the dumbest question he's ever asked, and he shakes his head. "Whatever it is- I just want you to be happy. If it's gonna make you feel better to have some space, then you should."

She nods, wrapping her arm around him again and settling her head on his shoulder. "Tomorrow. Today I just want to stay like this."

\-------------------------

"Sorry I'm late," Stevie says as she pulls out her chair and sits down across from Christine. "Lori called, and we were trying to make plans for them to come out here for a visit next weekend."

It was week two of her attempt to put some distance between herself and Lindsey. Last Sunday she had gone on an all-day shopping spree with Karen, who was unsurprisingly supportive of her efforts.

"You need some balance in your life. It's not healthy to get so hung up on any one person," she had advised her boss. "You're doing a good thing."

"I am, you're right. I already feel better," Stevie said, craning her neck to get a better view when she saw a familiar-looking car driving toward them. Nope, not Lindsey. Damnit.

It was a fun day, and she was definitely not thinking of him, except maybe a time or two when she was browsing the new collection at La Perla and making a few purchases for an occasion in the not-so-distant future. (Karen had excused herself and gone across the street to get coffee at this point). But Karen was away visiting her sister this weekend, so it fell on Christine to keep her entertained until she decided that it was late enough in the day for her to call Lindsey and find out when he was coming over tomorrow.

"Eh, it's not like I expected you to be here on time anyway," Christine says, waving her hand.

"I'm glad you could make it. I feel like we've hardly gotten a chance to catch up, just the two of us, without the boys around."

"You mean, without one boy in particular."

Stevie takes a sip of her water, eyeing the other woman over the rim of her glass. "I plead the fifth. We can talk about anything _but_ him."

"Oh, thank God. Because I was about to say, whatever's going on with you and him-"

"Why do you think there's something going on? We're friends, there's nothing going on."

"Whatever is going on with you and him," Christine repeats with the certainty of a woman who's seen this drama play out a time or two, "don't tell me. I'm better off not knowing."

"We're-"

"Just...don't fuck this up," Christine says, resigned to the fact that they are definitely not just friends. "For all of us, but mostly for yourselves. Don't fuck it up again."

**_the next weekend_ **

"And so then Lindsey said-"

On the other side of the dinner table, Chris and Lori give each other knowing looks. "What...guys, am I missing something here?"

"No," Chris assures her, still looking like he's trying hard not to crack up. "Go ahead, finish your story."

"But I don't get it, I haven't even gotten to the funny part yet and you're already laughing," Stevie says, annoyed by this act of sibling one-upsmanship.

"It's not your story, it's just that Lindsey's got a lot to say lately. That's all."

Jesse sets down her fork to clarify for her aunt. "Mommy and Daddy are counting how many times you mention him today. They have a bet going."

"Oh, do they? I'm glad you told me, baby girl." She narrows her eyes at her brother and sister in law, then goes back to eating.

"Stevie, we didn't mean anything by it," Lori reassures her. "We're just glad you're getting along with him- aren't we, honey?"

"Sure, yeah. But...how well are you getting along, exactly?" Chris asks, nudging his sister in the side.

"We're friends."

"Mmhmm. Well, make sure you two idiots-"

"No put-downs, Daddy," Jesse interjects, and Stevie bites back a smile.

Chris relents, shaking his head as he claps Stevie on the shoulder. "Just don't screw it up this time."

\-------------------------

"What are you wearing?"

"I...you...what?" Lindsey stammers, caught off guard by this sudden change of topic. They were on one of their nightly phone calls, Stevie telling him about her weekend with her family, when she stopped mid-sentence and asked him if he was in bed. When he said yes, that had been her reply.

"That night when you slept over at my place, you were still dressed when we went to bed." Which was true, he'd kept his shirt and boxers on all night despite feeling like he was melting inside her sauna-like bedroom. "And I don't think I've seen you sleeping with clothes on since we were 20 years old. So I was just wondering if that's something you did now."

Her voice is casual, but he has a feeling that he knows what she's getting at. "Uh, no. Not usually."

"Interesting," she says. "And you're in bed now, so that means you're wearing..."

"You're not interested in what I'm wearing. You're asking if I'm naked."

"Are you?"

He pauses, pretending to check. "Looks like I am."

"Mmm," she hums, sounding nonchalant, but he didn't miss the sharp inhale that she tried to muffle before she spoke.

"So what about you, ma'am?" He laughs when she makes a 'tsk' sound at him. "Hey, it's only fair."

"I'm wearing a nightgown, sorry to disappoint," she says primly.

"Oh yeah? And that's all?"

"Well, no. I'm wearing panties, if that's what you were getting at."

He pauses, considering his next move. He's still not completely sure where they stand, but since she's the one who started this little game, he decides that it's worth the risk to up the ante. "Take 'em off."

"Wh- seriously?"

"Seriously. I wanna be able to see you. All of you."

He hears a rustling noise, and his dick is suddenly paying close attention to this conversation. "Your eyes have always been better than mine, but I doubt they're that good."

"That's okay. My memory has always been better than my eyesight."

She sighs quietly, almost to herself. "I'm afraid reality doesn't match your memory, not anymore. I'm not exactly that skinny 20 year old you remember."

(He supposes it's not worth reminding her that she's complained about being fat for as long as he's known her, even when he could count each one of her ribs from across the room. _'There are some things you can't reason with a woman about,'_ his father had wisely counseled him once after he witnessed his son promising her she wasn't fat, only to be met with 'oh, now you're calling me a liar?!'. _'So just shut your damn mouth.'_

But then again, there's a Polaroid at the bottom of a locked box in his closet, a snapshot taken in some random hotel room where she's turned sideways and sticking her softly rounded belly out as far as she can. She's got a delighted smile on her face, eyes shining with excitement as she points to her bump. Below the photo she'd written _~our panda- 16 weeks!!!!~_

His memory _is_ good. It's been years since he's looked at that photo, but he still remembers every detail.)

"That's alright, because that 20 year old doesn't want me anyway," he says, trying to distract her with a joke. "I'm older than her dad- she'd think I'm some gross old pervert."

"Lindsey...I'm being serious."

"Oh, we're being serious? Okay then. I want to put my mouth on you. Seriously." Apparently that was the distraction she needed, because she sucks in a breath and then falls silent. "Remember how I used to wake you up back in the day?"

"Mmm. I do." When they first got together, they quickly found that they had very different opinions about morning sex. She didn't want to exert herself in any way, shape, or form, and he had the same energy as Ginny yapping at the front door to be let out as soon as the sun rose. Their compromise was that as long as he didn't wake her up before she was ready, he could have his way with her when she _was_ awake- as long as he didn't expect her to do any of the work. He agreed, thinking she would change her mind about that last bit. She didn't. But he came to realize that he didn't need it, that having the freedom to kiss her and touch her for as long as he could hold out was the most arousing thing he could imagine. Well, next to the sleepy little noises she made when he spooned her from behind and started fucking her lazily, her hand entwined with his on the pillow beside her head.

"That's what I want. I miss the way you taste first thing in the morning."

He was always good with his mouth, that was a given. But it was even better when she was in that haze between waking and sleeping, her drowsy brain not focused on anything but the sensations she was feeling. She would wiggle around under his touch, eyes closed so that she never knew what to expect next. "Only in the morning?"

"No way. As I recall, it seems to aid in meditation..." He remembers all the times he snuck into her dressing room, on his knees with one of her legs hooked over his shoulder while he fucked her with his tongue. On the other side of the door he would hear someone call out 'ten minutes', or hear Carol's voice asking if anyone had seen him, and the rush of moisture coating his mouth told him that he wasn't the only one getting off on the threat of being caught. When he'd emerge just before showtime, flustered and licking his lips, he'd tell Carol he'd been 'meditating'. If she had been smarter, she would've made the connection between his meditation sessions and how well he was getting along with his ex (or not getting along, as was sometimes the case).

Stevie clucks her tongue as if she wasn't thinking about the same thing, or about the way she used to return the favor after the show if they could manage to slip away in the midst of the chaos backstage. He was always in an aggressive mood by then, groping her roughly and pulling on her hair as he hit the back of her throat over and over, but it never took long because they were both so wound up after a couple of hours of what was essentially onstage foreplay. And blow. Lots and lots of blow.

She hears a few suspicious sounds coming from the other end of the line and begins to wonder if they're not just _thinking_ about the same thing. "What are you doing?"

"Same thing I do every night."

"Talking to me?" she guesses, playing dumb.

"After that."

"And here I was assuming that you just closed your eyes and went to sleep like a good boy," she says, her fingers trailing along the inside of her thigh.

"Not after I've been around you all day."

She brushes her knuckles over her center, not bothering to hide the soft sigh that comes out of her mouth. "It's been two days since you've seen me."

"But I was still thinking about you." He's got his hand wrapped around his dick, and it's a pale substitute for actually being inside her, but her voice in his ear is certainly helping things.

"I was too. Maybe even more than I think about you when we're together."

He grins even though she can't see it. "Do you remember that big mirror you had back in your college apartment?"

"You're not interested in the mirror," she says, echoing what he had told her earlier. "You're asking if I remember that one time..."

"Eh, you caught me. But you _do_ remember." One Saturday night when they were alone in the apartment and mildly stoned, they decided to move the floor-length mirror over to the foot of her bed. It wasn't like he'd never seen her jerking him off before. But it was different this way, like watching a movie and living it all at once.

"Of course I do." She thinks back to sitting on his lap with her legs spread open wide, fascinated by the sight of his fingers disappearing inside her while his thumb played over her clit, and how despite all the hours she'd spent watching him strum his guitar, it was like she was seeing his hands for the first time. "Linds. I."

He closes his eyes and sees the girl in the mirror kissing and nibbling on his neck, her breasts pressed against his back as she cups his balls in the palm of her hand. "Are you touching yourself for me, angel?"

"I am, but...God. I need you. It's been so long."

"For me too," he says, imagining that it's her thumb swiping over the head of his cock. "And I'm gonna make up for every single day we've missed. I promise."

She remembers watching him take her from behind, seeing the look of ecstasy on his face when her inner muscles tightened around him. Her fingers start moving faster and she moans, the rumbling sound of him grunting in her ear seemingly sending vibrations straight to her clit. "Just fuck me. Please."

"Oh, I'm going to do a hell of a lot more than that," he says, jerking forward into his hand like he's trying to send her over the edge. "You're not going to be able to walk straight by the time I'm done with you-"

"Ohhh _fuck_!" The unmistakable sounds of her climax echo inside his head as he releases onto his stomach, squeezing himself through the aftershocks and wishing to God he was inside her.

"Stevie?" he asks when he doesn't hear anything but heavy breathing on the other end of the line for a few moments. "You okay?"

"Mmhmm," she hums, still in a daze.

"That was-"

"I swear to Christ, all that about me not being able to walk..." she purrs in her languid post-coital voice, "you talk a big game, but you'd better be able to follow through."

"Oh, I am. Trust me. I haven't forgotten how to make my girl feel good."

"Mmm. Lindsey?"

"I've had enough of this whole taking it slow thing. I don't want to be just friends anymore."


	10. a friend is always good to have (1979)

**_November 1979_ **

Well, at least she wasn't pregnant.

After that afternoon's ill-fated rehearsal, Jimmy had made a few quick calls and then she was whisked away to the office of some ENT doc who had agreed to stay after hours to see her.

His nurse seemed less than thrilled at the imposition, eyeing Stevie derisively as she sat on a chair in the corner of the exam room and shivered. "Any chance you could be pregnant?"

"Oh. Uh-"

Before she could finish answering the question, Nurse Ratched decided she'd heard enough and sent her off to the bathroom with a cup and a lecture about how these injections could make a baby grow arms out of their ears or something equally horrible. Stevie tried to explain that she had just been caught off guard by the question, that there was a 99...95...90...well, she was pretty confident that she wasn't pregnant- but to no avail.

The test results took twenty minutes to come back, giving her just enough time to stop freaking out about losing her voice and start worrying that maybe she _was_ knocked up. No, it couldn't be. She was always really careful, at least most of the time, but things happen and-

The nurse came back in with a truly insincere 'congratulations, you're in the clear', but she didn't have a chance to feel relieved before she was told to open her mouth and they sprayed something in her throat to numb her gag reflex. Ha. Lindsey would surely have made a joke about that- no. She's not thinking about him when she has so much else to stress about. He didn't give a shit about _her_ when she was having an anxiety attack because she couldn't sing. She opened her mouth and literally nothing came out, just like she was living one of her reoccurring nightmares, and Lindsey was too preoccupied with his petty anger to do anything but embarrass her in front of everyone. So fuck him.

He was good for one thing, though- she was so busy mentally cursing his very existence that she was completely oblivious to the doctor's giant needle. She was still a bit sketchy on the details of how this whole thing actually worked, but within ten minutes her voice was already sounding stronger, and the doctor sent her on her way with a promise that she wouldn't feel any pain until after the show.

Thank God for Jimmy. He was right, he took care of it.

\-------------------------

She padded quietly over to the sliding door and pulled it open, stepping out onto the small balcony off the main room of her suite. The night air was still and unseasonably warm for late November, but there was enough of a chill that she kept her coat buttoned over her robe and nightgown. It wouldn't do for her to get a cold or pneumonia right now on top of whatever was plaguing her vocal cords.

She listened to the sounds of the city around her, the sirens and garbage trucks and the distant voices of people coming and going on the busy streets below. She wished she was one of them. This was their fourth night in New York, and for the last three nights she had been busy soaking up all that it had to offer. Disco was still king here and at times she felt like she didn't belong, this hippie chick among the glitterati and the children of European aristocracy, but the energy of these places was something otherworldly and after you'd sampled some of the refreshments, you too could be transformed.

She had already been planning to go back to the Roxy tonight and celebrate their first show at the Garden on the roller rink. But Jimmy, who had no interest in that scene to begin with, was not in favor of that idea. He didn't complain when she wanted to go out on the night they arrived in the city, but each night after that his objections were growing more strenuous. And then after her meltdown earlier that day, his case that she was 'overextending herself' was only bolstered. She thought he was being ridiculous and she told him that. It's not like she had been standing in the middle of the dance floor at the Palladium shrieking her lungs out; she'd been having problems with her voice since college and this was just a reaction to being back on tour. It had scared her, yes, but whatever his doctor friend had shot her up with had worked wonders and she was fine now.

Despite her protests, they ended up back at the hotel soon after the show. Not because she let him tell her what to do- nobody can do that- but because she finally gave in to his plea that he just wanted some time alone with her. She had been putting him off after a quick tryst the day he arrived, too preoccupied with other things. It's possible that they might've had sex one of those nights after they got back from the clubs, she's sure she wouldn't remember it even if they did, but she doesn't think he's one of those guys who'd take advantage of a situation where she was clearly too fucked up to know what she was doing.

Now that they were face to face again for the first time in a month, the subtle hints about him wanting more from the relationship were becoming less subtle. He wasn't going to come right out and say 'I think we should be exclusive,' but it was definitely implied, and she just...didn't want to have that conversation. She could see herself falling for him if circumstances were different, though. He had the same sense of humor that Lindsey did, the kind she adored precisely because it wasn't really funny at all. She loved his passion for music, the stories he could tell, and the way he not only understood her ideas, but got excited about them and knew right away how to make them even better. She appreciated how she could call him up at 5 AM from whatever city she was in that night, too tired and wired to sleep, and he would just listen until she finally wore herself out.

Ironically enough, she could use someone to talk to right now. They'd had a nice night once they got back to her suite- he was clearly trying hard to romance her and it felt good. She liked the feeling of being pursued even if she couldn't quite reciprocate, at least not yet, and she had no complaints about him sexually. But he was asleep as soon as it was over and she found herself getting restless, her internal clock stubbornly insisting that it wasn't time to turn in yet. She considered sneaking out to meet up with the rest of her usual post-show compatriots, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get dressed and do her hair and makeup without being noticed, so she decided she'd have to settle for getting some semi-fresh air on the balcony.

She rests her hands on the cold metal railing and looks up at the moon, a perfect crescent partially obscured by passing clouds. Lindsey would never go to sleep without making sure she got off at _least_ twice. His pride wouldn't allow it. She used to have to pretend she was asleep just to get him off of her, back when she was dead on her feet after a long shift at the restaurant and he was wide awake and horny after a long day of waiting for her to get home.

She's not sure why she's thinking about this. There's really no reason. Even when they _are_ together now, time is almost always at a premium. There's always somewhere else they're supposed to be or somebody else they're supposed to be with.

A flicker of light appears in her peripheral vision and she's surprised to see Lindsey standing on the balcony of the room next door. Her wistful thoughts vanish instantly, his presence just feet away reminding her that she's pissed at him. In every city she asks that they _please_ not be neighbors, that preferably they should be placed on different floors, but most of the time logistics dictate otherwise. JC has said he'd be happy to accommodate her request if she's willing to give up always having the largest suite, which she is absolutely not, especially since Carol started whining about how it should go to Lindsey because he was the only one who always had someone accompanying him.

(Stevie thought that sounded like a problem with an easy solution, one that had nothing to do with room size, but Carol disagreed.)

"Hey." It's the most he's said to her since soundcheck. She knows he stopped by her dressing room before the show, but she had Jimmy tell him she didn't want visitors, and amazingly he just walked away without argument.

"Hey."

"Can't sleep?" he asks, and she shakes her head no. He looks up at the same moon she herself was watching earlier, now shining freely without the cloud cover to dim its light, and exhales a puff of smoke in its direction. "Yeah, me neither."

"Where's Carol?" she asks, assuming she must have escaped from Lindsey's clutches and gone clubbing with the others.

He mimes being asleep. "Where's Jimmy?"

"Same," she admits, because it's not like she'll be able to pretend they spent all night fucking now that he's caught her out here.

"Do you wanna go inside and we can talk or whatever? Just talk, that's all."

She hesitates. He's quiet and contrite, so unlike the person who was gleefully spitting venom at her onstage a few hours ago. Maybe he got it out of his system that way, at least temporarily. Besides, what else was she going to do? Be cold and lonely standing out here by herself until she got tired? "Yeah, okay."

"I'll meet you out in the hall," he says as they both disappear into their respective suites. He pokes his head into the bedroom to make sure he can still hear Carol's soft snores, then slips on his sandals and pockets his room key before locking the door behind him.

It took Stevie a couple more minutes to emerge from her room and he was starting to get nervous, wondering if he'd been stood up. But soon enough she made her entrance, a knitted blanket wrapped around her like a cape and her leg warmers pulled up to just below her knees so that they were touching the hem of her robe.

"Nice outfit," he says with a soft smile.

"I was afraid that if I got changed, I'd wake him up, so... "

"It's cute," he assures her, but she wrinkles up her nose and shakes her head. She's not wearing makeup, and he's always thought she was especially pretty that way. Maybe it was the way her skin seemed to glow when it was scrubbed clean, or maybe it was something about the intimacy of seeing her bare-faced. He remembers the first time, back before they were even dating, the two of them sharing a little motel room in Salt Lake City. She came out of the bathroom with wet hair and not a drop of makeup to be seen, her long white nightgown making her look almost angelic, and he was stunned.

"You're staring," she had said...just like she was saying right now. Shit.

"Uh, sorry." He punches the elevator button again, relieved when the door opens. "After you."

She smirks and steps in ahead of him. "I figured you and Carol were going out tonight."

"Nah. She wanted to, but I told her I was at my limit."

"Oh my God, you sound like Jimmy. Next time, us girls might as well just go together and leave you guys here."

He snorts in disbelief. "No way in hell am I letting her go out with you."

"What, why not?" she asks, giggling at his reaction. "It's not like I'd ditch her somewhere or whatever. I'd show her a good time."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm afraid of." Carol's too easily influenced; she'd jump off the proverbial cliff if Stevie told her to and he's in no shape to rappel down the canyon in search of _both_ women.

She decided it wasn't worth it to mention that Carol already knew how to have a hell of a good time on her own. "But you let her go out with Sara- you trust her and not me?"

"Sara's got a boyfriend," he explains. "Keeps her from looking for trouble."

"Uh-huh. " She's unconvinced but she lets it drop. Even if she doesn't have particularly warm feelings toward Carol, she knows what Lindsey's like, and she's not going to give him a reason to decide Carol should _never_ go out unaccompanied by him.

They pass by a table in the back of the lobby with coffee urns already set up for morning. "You want anything?"

"Water would be nice." He nods, grateful for the reprieve as she wanders into the empty dining room and sits down at a table. He's honestly not sure what to do or say or even why he asked if they could talk in the first place. He had been lying on the couch in his suite, staring at the TV because he couldn't sleep, and the last channel had just signed off for the night. As he got up to turn it off, he noticed a small figure in a bulky fur coat standing on the balcony next door. She was watching the moon, of course, and he knew she probably didn't want to be disturbed, but she looked so lonesome and melancholy that his feet had carried him outside before his brain had time to object. _Why wasn't she with her producer? If that fucker hurt her, I'll break his face. Just ask Mick what I'm capable of._

But however it happened, he managed to get her to talk to him, so he's going to try not to fuck it up. "Here you go."

"Thanks," she says, taking a long drink. "Oh, that's good. I couldn't drink anything before the show because my throat was numb, and now I'm so thirsty."

"Yeah, how did that...are you gonna be okay? I tried to come check on you when you got back but I guess you were. Busy." He hadn't even knocked on her dressing room door when Jimmy came out, arms crossed like the world's tiniest bouncer, and informed him that 'she doesn't want company.'

"It feels much better now, but they said I might need a booster in a couple weeks. Thank God Jimmy knew that doctor. "

_And the midget saves the day_ , he grouses internally. "But that's all? Nothing else?"

"Not really. They gave me antibiotics in case it's some sort of infection."

"Huh. I mean, I'm glad you're alright." As he had been sitting in the dressing room after soundcheck, ignoring Carol as she whined about something or another, the horrifying thought had occurred to him that maybe her voice wasn't what she was going to get 'taken care of.'

Carol had noticed when he abruptly stopped air-picking some silent melody, frowning at him. "Baby? What is it?"

"Just thinking about Stevie-" Carol groaned through gritted teeth and he hurried to do damage control. "If she can't sing, we're screwed." Deciding to try his luck with the only person who might be able and willing to spill some inside info, he asked "You don't think there's something seriously wrong with her, do you? Like, you haven't heard anything..."

Carol snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure she's close to death, and that's why she's out until five every morning. I wouldn't worry about that."

He conceded to himself that she probably wasn't pregnant. And even if she was, would she really have gotten rid of it? She swore after the last time that she'd never do that again. But although she seemed traumatized enough back then to where he had believed her, these days he was far past the point of believing too much in _anything_ she said.

"Linds? Are you okay?"

"What?" he asks Stevie, having momentarily zoned out. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry."

She nods and sips her water again, unsure what to say. _'I guess all those dicks I'm sucking didn't ruin my vocal cords like you thought'_? Not feeling like starting another fight, she decides not to say anything and crosses her right leg over her left, wincing as she rotates her ankle. She had been so worried about her voice that she hadn't even noticed the pain in her foot until the show was over, and now her ankle was swollen and tender. "Shit."

"Does it hurt? "

When she nods, he pats his knee. She hesitates, then slips off her sandal and rests her heel on his thigh, watching him inspecting her foot before starting to rub it gently. She's reluctant to let him touch her when she's still mad at him, but she's let him do far more when she was far angrier, and he really _is_ good with his hands. It doesn't mean she forgives him for everything he said the last time they fought, though. He probably can't even remember most of it, he just knows he fucked up, and this is so typical of him. He's never been one for apologies, but he'll flip the switch and become all sweet and obliging as his way of trying to earn forgiveness. They have that in common. "I...that feels good. Thanks."

"Course. " He doesn't recall much about the fight they had earlier in the week, which doesn't surprise him. His last coherent memory was of watching Carol leave, then finishing off the bottle of whatever he had been drinking and smashing it on the floor along with his unused glass. He did a couple lines, threw the empty plates from dinner against the wall, and then stormed out to confront Stevie. From there, it gets blurry. But there's a few things she said that stuck with him, and one in particular that's been sitting heavy on his mind for days. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"I guess," she says with narrowed eyes, silently warning him that he may not get an answer.

"The other day you said...if we had broken up, and we weren't in a band together. Did you- I mean. Do you really think that would've happened? That we would've broken up even if we hadn't joined the band?"

She doesn't know what she was expecting him to ask- probably something about her and Jimmy- but this was definitely not it. His eyes are big as he waits for her reply, and he looks so vulnerable that any thoughts she might have had about delivering some cutting remark are long gone. "Yeah. I do."

"Oh."

"It just wasn't working, even before that," she says softly, trying to reason with him. "I know you tried. I did too. But there's only so much that you or I could fix."

"I just wonder...maybe if we had gone home, did the things we were planning on..." He shrugs, not wanting to elaborate on what those plans were. He doesn't need to. She already knows.

"Maybe. Or maybe we would've still split up, and then we wouldn't have each other or our music. It'd be too hard to keep going as a duo after that, I think, without having anyone else to kinda be a buffer. And then who knows if we'd ever even see each other again?"

"You don't think we'd stay friends?" He knows they wouldn't, that they could _never_ be just friends regardless of what alternate universe they were inhabiting, but he wants to hear her say it.

"I really don't." They would probably keep coming back to each other and then pulling away again, the way they had when they were still living together, but never under the guise of friendship. "I mean, it's hard enough as it is now. "

They trade little rueful smiles, and Lindsey presses his thumb into the arch of her foot. "Do you think it'll ever get easier?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe someday. I hope...but it never seems like there's enough time. How long has it been since we've sat down and talked like this, just the two of us?" She couldn't remember the last time they had a civil, private conversation that wasn't something along the lines of 'fuck me harder.' They were fighting or they were screwing, never anything more or less than that.

He laughs quietly. "I guess we usually kinda get carried away."

"Not that that's always a bad thing," she hurries to add. "But...I know you don't want to hear this, but I think we'd be better friends if Carol wasn't always around. I get that she's your girlfriend, but it sucks to feel like I can't even sit next to you at dinner and chat or whatever because she'll start butting in."

"Says the woman who is literally never alone." She bristles at this, but he's telling the truth. She's always surrounded by her girlfriends or whoever she's flirting with/fucking with, and he has no idea how to get her away from her admirers if there's not orgasms involved, which is what makes this moment they're having right now so extraordinary.

"I don't make you have to see the people I'm dating all the time, constantly hanging off of me."

"No, you just have your pro-" He starts to object but then stops. Both of them look at each other carefully, curiosity barely masked, before two sets of eyes drop down to their respective laps. A shared realization passes between them that maybe they are not so different in this regard, that maybe they are both trying to shield themselves from the same things and that there's no way they can continue this line of conversation without revealing that they are just as afraid as the other is.

"I don't wanna argue, Linds," she finally says, and he silently agrees. He starts fidgeting, tapping his foot and shoving his hand into his pocket, but then removing it when he remembers that he probably shouldn't smoke around her. "Is...you're sure you're okay?"

He wants to tell her about the dream he had on the night they had that fight, how she suddenly appeared in his room and he broke down, telling her that he loved her and he needed her and begging her not to leave again. How she swore that she wouldn't, that she would always come back to him, and then she knelt down and he felt her soft hands unbuttoning his pants and then...

It didn't feel like a dream. Everything about it was too real. But hours later he was crushed to wake up with nothing but a pounding headache and his girlfriend in bed beside him.

So no, he won't tell her.

"I'm alright, just thinking," he says instead, reaching for her foot again so that he has something to do with his hands. "You wanna know something?"

"Yeah."

"As much as I really hate this fucking band sometimes...if we would've broken up no matter what," which he still doesn't completely believe, but he'll play what-if for now, "then I don't regret joining. It's worth it to have you around. And I wouldn't want to do this without you anyway. "

She swallows hard a couple of times, trying to pretend that the tears welling up in her eyes are from the soreness in her throat. He was right when he said that it was the band that led to their breakup, but not in the way he thinks. She knows she wasn't ready to let go of him fully, not then and not now, and so it was only when she felt assured of his commitment to the band that she finally had the courage to decide that they were over for good. But telling him that would only hurt him more, so no. She won't tell him. "You won't have to. I promise."

"You say that now."

"I mean it. You're stuck with me. No matter what else I do, we'll still always have our thing."

"You told me we didn't have a 'thing' anymore. We're not a duo, we're not a couple. We work on our music together because we're in the same band, and that's all there is," he says, her words unearthing a new memory of their last argument.

"I think there's always been more to it than that." He's surprised to see genuine remorse on her face, her eyes not meeting his.

She knows it's true, even when they try to fight it by fighting each other. It would be so much easier if they could draw a clear boundary, but their music and their relationship have been inextricably woven together ever since the first time she kissed him while he was playing for her in his backyard. Even in the midst of the nuclear-grade hatred that permeated long stretches of the Tusk sessions, some of their best work came out of the night when he stumbled over to his guitar with his jeans still unzipped, having jumped out from underneath her as they laid together on the studio couch. _Just hear this, I've got it_ , he said, rubbing his hands together manically while she wrapped herself up in a blanket and sat down on the piano bench to listen.

"I think so too." He's still wounded by the idea that she would plan a solo project without wanting him to have any part in it, but bringing that up again isn't going to do anything but push her further into the arms of her producer and that's the last thing he wants right now. "Stevie?"

"Hmm?"

"You're...I mean. It's not. If all I wanted was someone to fuck, I'd find someone else. You know that, right?"

"Oh. I...sure," she says, brow furrowed in confusion. Out of everything she had said to him the other night, that was what had hurt the most- hearing her imply that he thought of her as a warm body and not much else. It couldn't have been further from the truth, and it left him feeling like the chasm between them had grown so deep that it was insurmountable. _How could she not know that I..._

He tries another approach. "What I'm saying is, you're not just an easy lay to me. Not easy at all, actually. You're the most difficult person I know."

"Thank you, I think," she says, the tips of her ears turning pink as she giggles quietly. He hadn't intended to say it quite like that, but he thinks she understood the message behind his clumsy words. She ducks her head in an attempt to conceal her shy smile. "I should. Um. I should probably go get some sleep."

"Okay. But you get what I'm trying to say, right?"

She takes her foot off of his leg and stands up as he does the same. To his surprise, she steps toward him and wraps her arms snugly around his waist. "Yeah. I get it, hon."

"Alright. Good."

"You know, even if I'm difficult, and you're an asshole...I'm glad we're friends. Some of the time, at least. I wouldn't even know what to do if you weren't around," she admits, resting her head on his shoulder.

_Tell her you still love her_ , the little voice in his head urges. _Do it now, when she can't chalk it up to you being under the influence of sex or coke._ But he doesn't know what good it would do, not when they're both about to part ways and go back to bed with other people, so he settles for hugging her a little tighter and kissing the side of her head. "I guess you'd have to get someone else to rub your feet, for starters."

They stay hand in hand as they pass through the lobby, into the elevator, and back to their floor. She doesn't let go until they're standing in front of her door and she reaches into the pocket of her robe to pull out her key. "Thanks. For keeping me company and...everything."

"Any time. See you tomorrow."

\-------------------------

As she returns to her darkened room, moving cautiously while her eyes adjust to the lack of light, she herself feels infinitely lighter. Not only is she relieved that they've once again found some sort of equilibrium, but it seems like something that was holding her back, a weight that she wasn't even aware of, has been lifted.

The man next to her stirs slightly as she crawls back into bed. "Where'd you go?"

"Just got up to get some water."

He nods and reaches out for her. She shifts so that one of her legs is hitched over his and cups his cheek, kissing him soundly as the first rays of sunrise peek over the horizon.

\-------------------------

Next door, Lindsey finds Carol sleeping in the same place she was when he left. He doubts she's even moved.

He stands by the window, hoping against hope that he'll see Stevie come outside again. That she'll realize there's still things left unsaid. But she doesn't.

He lights up one more time, watching the crescent moon make its slow descent in the sky as morning approaches.

\-------------------------

_"Hello New York City, number two night. I would like to dedicate this song to my friend Lindsey, because he's very special to me. It's called Landslide." -Stevie, 11/16/79_


	11. it's true the two of us are back as one (1997)

**_May 1997_ **

"So. I was thinking."

Stevie chuckles. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"It is. I'm pretty sure." He doesn't know why he's so nervous, like he's asking her out for the first time. Of course, he was nervous then too. It was a little ridiculous to be that anxious about inviting her to a movie, considering that they'd already slept together multiple times, but he remembers being convinced that asking her on a real date would be the tipping point where she came to her senses and realized that she could do so much better than him. She said yes to him then, though, and he's hoping she'll say yes to him this time too. "I'm. Ah. What are you doing the weekend after we tape the show? Your birthday weekend."

"Nothing that I know of...yet," she says.

She sounds curious, and he counts that as a win. _Come on, Buckingham, get it together._ He tries to tell himself that it's unlikely she changed her mind about wanting to have sex with him in the past few hours, because it sure seemed like that was where they were headed earlier that evening. They had snuck back to her dressing room after rehearsal and he had her up against the door as soon as it closed behind them, attacking her neck with his mouth while one of his hands traveled under her blouse and groped at her breast like a horny kid in the backseat of his parents' car. Good thing she was into it. Or maybe not so good, because the sounds of her little giggles and gasps were enough to attract Karen's attention from out in the hallway, which put an end to the fun. "I'm glad. Cause I was kinda hoping you'd go somewhere with me."

"Oh yeah? Where?"

"Honestly? I don't care. I just- we've been so busy, and that's our only chance to really have some downtime for a while, and-"

"Lindsey," she says, and he can hear amusement in her tone.

"Yes?"

"Just say you want to go somewhere so that we can have a lot of sex without being interrupted."

"That is...exactly what I want," he admits. "We've been waiting so long, and so once we finally...I don't want any distractions for the next few days after that."

"Days, huh?" she asks, her voice going from amused to sultry. "I like how that sounds."

"So is that a yes?"

"Well, I don't know." He sits there silently, frozen and slightly open mouthed, until she continues. "I mean, that kinda sounds like a thing that couples do."

"I...yeah? I guess?" _What is she getting at?_

"And we're not a couple, at least not yet. So don't you think you're forgetting something?"

He can tell that she's smiling, so he knows she's not shutting him down outright, but he's still baffled. His Stevie never did come with an instruction manual. "Babe, if-"

"For God's sake, Lindsey, just ask me if I'll be your girlfriend so that I can say yes."

"What am I supposed to say- 'do you want to go steady with me'?," he teases, able to relax now that he's no longer worried about being rejected. "Because I don't think I _ever_ actually asked you that."

"You didn't. I told you to go break up with your girlfriend so that we could be official, and then that night you came back to my apartment and said 'well, I guess I'm your boyfriend now.' So this is your chance to do it the proper way. I'm not going to go running off with some guy I'm not even dating! What kind of woman do you think I am?"

"Is this something I'm even allowed to do over the phone? I don't want you bitching later on because I didn't ride up to your door on a white horse and hand you five dozen roses," he says, fully prepared to do just that if that's what it's going to take.

She laughs, and he smiles thinking of the delight he can picture on her face. "Can you imagine? Karen gets irritated enough by the dogs shitting all over the lawn, let alone a horse."

"Okay, then that's out. I can't give her another reason to hate me...but I'm serious, I want to do this right." Whatever it is that she wants, she's going to get it. She deserves it after all this time and all the shit he's put her through, and he intends to spoil the hell out of her.

"Then just ask me. That's all I need. I'm a simple girl."

"Are you kidding?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "You're the least simple person I've ever known in my life."

"Lindsey."

"Uh-huh?"

"I guess I'm your girlfriend now."

A warm smile crosses his face as he remembers saying almost the same thing to her 30 years ago, standing at her door and scratching his shaggy hair anxiously while her roommates watched the scene unfold from inside the kitchen. "If you would've told me at 19 that we'd be having this conversation when we were almost 50...man."

"Yeah... " she says in not much more than a whisper.

"Hey. What's wrong?"

He hears her take a few drawn-out breaths, but he lets her take her time until she's ready to talk. "We...I. I wasted so much time. If I would've done things differently, if I hadn't..."

"No. Baby, no, we're not gonna go down that road." He's had the same thoughts more than once since they reunited, thinking about what could've been and what they might have missed out on, but he's not going to let her do that to herself. "Everything happens the way it's supposed to. It's destiny. Isn't that what you've always told me?"

"Well. Yeah, but... "

"No buts. Think of it this way. How many people do you know, people our age, who are still with their college sweetheart?"

"Uh, I'm not sure, " she says, struggling to think of anyone offhand. "My old roommate Estelle was, but her husband died last year."

"See? Most of them are on their second or third marriage. We're the lucky ones who still have each other. So we had to take an extended time out- it happens, and we still have a lot of years ahead of us. We're not that old yet...well. _I'm_ not. "

"You better watch your mouth," she warns.

"Hey, did I say it was a bad thing? No one told me when I was a teenager that you were only going to get hotter as you got older. That's probably a good thing, too, cause I don't think I'd have been able to handle that."

"Oh, for the love of God. I already said I'd sleep with you, so you can stop with the sweet talk now."

"Never," he says, his voice turning serious. "Are you sure you're okay? I don't want you to be upset. Not tonight."

"I'll be alright, hon." It's not a feeling that will go away anytime soon, she knows that, but she's already lost enough of her life grieving for what might have been. She's moving forward, and tonight has been a big step in that direction.

"Good. Now tell me what happened before I called?"

She groans, her hand over her eyes. "It was bad. But it could've been much worse."

After their call on Sunday, the one that had devolved into (multiple rounds of) phone sex, they had been repeating the process nightly in order to work off some of the sexual tension that had been building throughout the day. Tonight he had told her he'd call at 10. By 10:03, she was tired of waiting and decided she was going to have to start without him. At 10:07, the phone rang.

"Finally," she said in a breathy voice as she picked up the phone, free hand wedged in between her thighs. "You can't make me wait like that, I'm already -"

"Teedee? Am I interrupting something?"

"Busted! By your mother!" Lindsey says, not even trying to hide his amusement.

"It's not funny!" she insists. "Thank God she didn't figure out what was going on. At least, I don't think she did." She might have just been in denial, but Stevie was okay with that. "Anyway, she said to tell you that she and Dad can't wait to see you next week."

"Oh?" he says with a tinge of anxiety. He knew Stevie had told her folks about (most of) what was going on between them, and he felt like he was about to go through the whole uncomfortable 'meet the parents' ordeal again even though he'd known these people for decades.

"Will you relax? It's nothing to worry about. They like you more than they like me."

"Doesn't mean they're happy about me dating their daughter _again_."

It was true that her mom had been skeptical in the beginning, but it was Stevie that she was worried would fuck things up, not him. "They're happy because they see that you make me happy. And they trust you. I mean...they know I probably wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

"Sssh, no. That's not true," he reassures her. They don't talk much about that time in their life, and only in the vaguest possible terms. He definitely doesn't think he did anything especially praiseworthy. At most, it was his way of trying to atone for the times when he should've been there but wasn't. Not that there's really any way he'll ever feel fully redeemed. Hell, he abandoned her in a foreign country when she was sick and scared and pregnant with his fucking baby, and that was just for starters. It's a wonder that he never met the business end of her father's shotgun. "You're the one who did all the hard work, not me. You've always been tougher than I am."

"But you were the only one who actually thought I could do it. Everyone else had given up on me."

"Steph...are you sure you're alright? Do you want me to come over? Because I will if-"

"No!" she says, a bit too forcefully. "Not that I don't want you to, but if you do, there's no way I'm gonna be able to keep myself from...well. You know."

"I don't know, you'll have to tell me."

She clucks her tongue at him. "You know exactly what I mean."

"And would it really be so bad if we did?" he asks. Such a turnaround from only a month ago when she insisted that they could control themselves, that they weren't 'wild animals'.

"If we've been able to wait this long, we can hold out for another week and a half," she says firmly. "We just have to...be careful."

"Careful, huh? If you say so."

"Think of my parents. They'll know if you defiled their little girl."

"That...actually, that might work," he says, frowning at the thought. "Speaking of knowing things, are we going to tell the others what's going on with us?"

He's caught off guard by her loud laugh. "While we're at it, why don't we sit them down and tell them that the sky is blue?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They know, baby. In fact, they'd probably be offended if they thought that _we_ thought they didn't know. I'm not going to lie if someone asks, but I'm not going to insult their intelligence by making some big announcement. So I say we should just...well."

"Well?" he repeats.

"I was gonna say, just be casual. But I forgot you totally can't do that."

"What? I can too."

"I haven't seen it from you yet!" Only Lindsey would be clueless enough to think he's been subtle about his feelings in front of the rest of the group. Nobody has come right out and said anything, but the constant touching/hand holding/cheek kissing makes it pretty obvious what's up. She thinks they're all pretending they don't notice because they're just so happy that there hasn't been any of the normal Lindsey-and-Stevie drama, and that's the only reason why no one has said anything to him. "You'd be feeling me up in front of the entire room if you thought you could get away with it."

"I would not! I'd be doing a hell of a lot more than that."

She lies back down with her head on the pillow, pulling the blankets off of her bare legs. "Oh yeah? Tell me about it..."

**_three days later_ **

"Lose the shirt."

Lindsey sits down on the edge of the bed, eyebrows raised. "You want me to..."

"You're going to be roasting again if you don't," Stevie points out as they get ready for bed. "I'll do my best to control myself."

He does as told, and despite her promise, she makes no secret of eyeing him appreciatively as he does. "Is Karen going to be here in the morning?"

"Probably, why? You miss her already?"

"No, no. I just wanted to be prepared. We don't want a replay of the Richard incident." Back when the three of them were living together, there had been some miscommunication about whether Richard was going to be home that night- the unfortunate result being that he walked in on a naked Lindsey getting a glass of water in the kitchen.

Stevie throws her head back and laughs at the memory, clapping her hands together. "And all of a sudden, I hear the two of you screaming like little girls, so I grab the baseball bat and run downstairs thinking there's a burglar, but it's just your bare ass!"

"You wouldn't think it was so funny if it had been _your_ ass," he says sourly, and she leans over to placate him with a kiss. She means for it to stay relatively chaste, but her mouth opens as soon as their lips meet and her tongue starts searching out his. The no-tongue rule had been forgotten, replaced by a loose agreement that they would have to keep their hands and mouths above the waist if they were going to have any chance of making it one more week without consummating the relationship.

And now that it _was_ a relationship, Stevie was finding it more and more tempting to say 'to hell with this, just fuck me now.' If the point had been that they were getting reacquainted with each other before jumping into bed, then they'd already accomplished that. He was her boyfriend now and she wanted him, goddamnit. But there was also something about waiting that was romantic in its unfamiliarity, like anticipating the wedding night she never had.

(After her real wedding, it took three days before they sealed the deal. It was the first time they'd slept together. She drank two-thirds of a bottle of brandy beforehand and she stood in the shower and cried once it was over.)

She may not ever have another honeymoon. Even if she does, she's sure as hell not going to be celibate for another two and a half years leading up to it, so this will have to do. Besides, Lindsey was right. Once she finally has him, she's not going to tolerate any interruptions, and it would look way too suspicious if they both called out 'sick' for several days in a row.

She runs her hand up and down his back as they kiss, sighing with pleasure as his thumb starts playing with her nipple through the fabric of her tank top. He pulls back and she whines when his tongue slips out of her mouth. "Can I take this off?"

"Linds..." She doesn't know how to explain it to him so that he'll get it, that she's still clinging to the vain hope that the faded stretch marks on her stomach and thighs will disappear in the next seven days, and she braces for him to tell her to stop being ridiculous.

Instead he reaches for one of the straps, pulling it halfway down her upper arm to demonstrate. "Just the top part?"

She rolls her eyes jokingly as she nods. Figures- she should have known he'd be more than satisfied if he could just get at her tits.

"Fuck..." She slips her arms out of the straps and he rests his head in the valley of her cleavage, his mouth barely brushing over her skin. "So beautiful."

She starts to say something in response, but then he sucks her nipple into his mouth and all she can do is groan as he laps at it with his tongue. His fingers skim over her other breast, tracing invisible patterns across her skin, drawing spirals that stop just short of the hardened pink bud that she's aching for him to touch. She's still almost fully clothed but it's the hottest thing he's ever seen in his entire goddamn life.

"Better than your own hand?" he asks, and she nods eagerly as she arches her back toward him. It's been so, so long since someone touched her like this. Much longer than two and a half years. Even longer than the decade that's passed since their last few (objectively miserable) sexual encounters. So rather than trying to summon the past, to pinpoint when the damage became all but irreparable, she takes it upon herself to re-memorize every detail. The way it feels when his fingers flick back and forth over her nipple like the strings of his guitar, when he kisses a slow trail that starts at the base of her neck and follows the curve of her breast to the underside, where he lets his tongue take over and follow the same path in reverse.

She lets out a moan as his mouth makes contact with an especially sensitive spot and he grins to himself, proud that he still has his mental map of her body and all the hidden treasures he's uncovered over the years committed to memory. He doesn't need her to tell him that he knows her like nobody else, that no one's ever been able to make her feel this good, because he hears it in the pounding of her heartbeat and tastes it on her kiss-swollen lips.

His hand travels down her side and she lifts her hips so he can give her ass a squeeze. She's clenching her thighs together rhythmically and fuck this no touching thing, he wants her. He's about to tell her so when she rests her palm on his bare chest. "Sit up, baby."

"I...huh? Are you-" He's confused but he does as told, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. "I mean, did I?"

"Sssh, you're fine. But this is better," she says, looking mischievous as she throws one of her legs over his. Her tits are right in his face and he can feel the wetness of her arousal through her leggings and oh god, she was right about that.

He starts sucking on her nipple again as she rubs herself against his bare thigh, and every time she rolls her hips toward him he takes more of her breast into his mouth. She's got one hand on his shoulder to steady herself and the other hand on the back of his head, holding him against her, even though he'd be happy to keep pleasuring her like this until his jaw locked up if only she'd let him. He's always known he was a breast man, ever since he was a kid stealing the lingerie catalogs he found stashed under his brothers' beds. Stevie used to think that was hilarious- 'and then you end up with me, of all people!'- even though he tried to explain that it wasn't about size. He never thought hers were anything less than perfect, from the way their shape fit in his hands to the way her nipples responded instantly to his touch and the way her skin turned flushed and pink under his ministrations. But although he hadn't been dissatisfied in the past, there was no denying that these luscious new curves of hers were unbelievably sexy.

"God, you must be fucking soaked," he says, nuzzling her neck as she lets her head loll to one side. When she doesn't respond, too focused on grinding her center against his hipbone, he slaps her ass lightly to get her attention. "Answer me."

"Ohh! I am, I'm...oh shit, don't stop..."

"That's my good girl." He goes back to mouthing at her other breast and she moans loudly, her movements becoming jerkier as she gets closer to orgasm. She's suddenly even more grateful that it's him she's breaking her long stretch of celibacy with, and not just because it's as good as she knew it would be, but because with anyone else she'd be embarrassed that she's about to come _hard_ from just this relatively small amount of stimulation. She'd be afraid that she would come off as desperate- or worse, that the guy would get an overinflated sense of his own abilities and think he can just phone it in from then on. But with him, she's not worried about any of that. She's free to let go and just feel, and it's never felt sweeter than this.

She cries out his name when she comes, clutching his head with both hands as her movements slowly come to a stop. "Holy fuck. Linds."

"Steph..." His voice sounds strangled, and she immediately feels guilty. She was so caught up in what she was doing that she didn't even realize she's been rubbing her thigh up against him this whole time, and the poor guy's obviously just a tiny bit uncomfortable.

He reaches for himself and she shakes her head, moving his hand away. She knows they said nothing below the waist, but...wait a minute. "See that bottle on the edge of the vanity? Grab that for me."

"This one?" he asks, looking confused. "Are you-"

She pumps the lotion into her palm until she decides there's enough, then starts slicking up the space between her breasts as she looks up at him with a teasing smirk. "See? I'm not actually touching you."

"Jesus Christ..." Lindsey struggles to keep his composure, not wanting this to be over before it even begins. It was something they'd done a few times before, back when they were much younger, but it had mixed results. Somehow, he doesn't think that's going to be the case this time.

He quickly sheds his boxers and sits down on the bench next to her vanity as she sinks down to her knees. He's completely naked now and she's still mostly clothed, which seems a little unfair, but he knows damn well he's in no position to complain. Not when she's kneeling down in front of him and _oh God._..

His dick nestled in her cleavage, she starts slowly moving up and down. He's not entirely sure what to do with his hands so he rests them on her shoulders, not wanting anything to get in the way of the view he has right now because he wants to remember this for the rest of his fucking life. The way she's biting her lip when she looks up at him with those impossibly big, impossibly innocent eyes, and the contrast between his flushed cock and her pale breasts. The sensation itself is incredible, warm and slick and tight enough that he can almost imagine that he's inside her, but it's the visual that's about to send him over the edge.

"Mmm, Linds. Does that feel good? Fucking my tits like this?" she purrs, and he can't even speak or breathe or _think_ anymore.

She shifts her arms so that she has her hands free to play with her nipples, the change of position putting more friction on the head of his dick. He'd love to finish just like this, his own arousal already coating her skin, but he knows she might have a different opinion. "Shit, angel, I'm gonna..."

"I've got you, baby. Do it." She lets go of her breasts and rises up higher on her knees, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him into a kiss. He reaches in between them and pumps into his fist once, twice more and then groans loudly, streaking her chest as he comes.

"Uh. Sorry about that," he says sheepishly. "I tried?"

She rolls her eyes, kissing his cheek before leaning over to grab the box of tissues on the table behind him. "I knew _that_ was going to happen. I was just trying to keep you from making a mess on my custom upholstery."

"Looks like it's safe- are you okay?" he asks as he sees her grimacing.

"I'm not sure if I can stand up," she admits with a laugh. "My knees aren't what they used to be." He helps her pull herself into a standing position, and she shakes her head as she hears her joints crack. "And _that_ was the most unsexy thing ever. Wow."

"Nothing about you is unsexy to me," he promises, kissing the tip of her nose.

"I love you."

She blurts it out in a rush, like she's afraid she'll lose her nerve if she waits, and he crushes their lips together quickly before she can see him grinning like an idiot. He's heard it from her multiple times a day for over a month now, but not like this. After so many years of the get off and get out routine, this was everything. "I love you too. So much."

"That felt a hell of a lot dirtier than if we'd just had sex, doesn't it?" She giggles again, nuzzling his neck as he agrees. "I'm going to get showered and then we're getting ready for bed. For real this time."

"Oh, I'm definitely ready for bed, dirty girl."

"To _sleep_ , dirty old man." She lands a well-placed smack right on the center of his ass cheek. "You need to rest up. We've got a busy week ahead of us..."


	12. leave 'em hanging on the line (1979)

**_November 1979_ **

She doesn't know why it felt like cheating.

Because it wasn't. You can't cheat on someone you're not dating, and she is 100 percent absolutely not dating Jimmy. She knows that. But she also knows what cheating feels like, and she'd like that feeling to stop.

Not that it's going to stop _her_. Once when Lindsey was really angry he called her a psychopath, because she 'has zero empathy for anyone else'. That was a lie, and an overdramatic one at that. She's not some kind of monster and she's plenty capable of feeling guilt. She believes in the ideal of monogamy, but she also believes it's an unrealistic expectation in the real world. It's like one of her college professors said about communism- it sounds great in theory, but it'll never work in practice because it runs counter to human nature. In other words, the heart wants what it wants.

But she's not sure what she wants right now. She's spent the better part of the last two weeks with Jimmy and she's starting to feel a little suffocated. After being with him for a week in New York, she had planned on staying in Boston with the girls during their two days off, but at the last moment she decided to go back to the city with him. Maybe it had something to do with how Carol Ann kept bragging to anyone who would listen about how Lindsey was taking her to some expensive bed and breakfast in Niagara on their break. Maybe it didn't. Anyway, she hung out with Jimmy at the studio in the daytime and went out clubbing at night, and it was so nice to get away from everyone for a few days. Well. Almost everyone.

She wasn't going to admit it out loud, but she missed Lindsey. Things between them had changed for the better since their late night talk. The next day, he had hung back to catch her as they left the stage before the encore.

"Hey," he said, just loud enough to be heard. "I didn't know you were going to do that. The Landslide dedication, I mean."

She didn't know she was going to either, not until after the show had already begun, but once the idea was in her head she knew that it was what she had to do. "Oh. Yeah, I guess it just...felt right."

"Well... " He turned his head side to side in order to make sure that they weren't being watched before pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "Thanks."

The next night Lindsey grabbed her by the elbow when she walked away from Jimmy to go get a drink, pulling her out of the room. "What are you-"

"Sssh," he warned, pushing her into a dark storage room that smelled like rubber and stale cigarette smoke.

"Are you crazy? We've got less than ten minutes to go and-"

"Shut up, I want you," he said as she stepped up onto a wooden box that had been left next to the wall.

"We're finally the same height." She giggled before he silenced her with a kiss, feeling his erection pressed against her through those ugly pants Carol had picked out for him. "Fuck," she sighed, automatically wrapping one leg around his thighs to pull him in closer. "Someone's a little excited..."

"I was watching you," he admitted. "Waiting until I could finally get you alone."

"You have me now. " She whined softly as he squeezed her breast, rubbing his hardness against her insistently.

"You want my cock, don't you?" he teased, voice raspy and ragged. "You know how good it feels when I'm fucking your tight little pussy."

He clapped one hand over her mouth as she started to let out a loud groan, and she nipped at his palm. "Fuck you for saying that when you know we don't have time."

"Can't help that it's the truth." He tried to push up her long skirt, swearing under his breath. "Why does this thing have so many goddamn layers?"

He finally reached his intended destination, pulling her panties to the side and roughly shoving two fingers inside her. "Oh _shit_!"

"That's it, pretty girl, you're so wet for me-"

The sound of someone knocking causes them both to jump. Christine, her voice equal parts annoyed and amused, called out to them from the other side of the door. "Five minutes! I'll make sure the coast is clear, just get your arses out here."

"Shit," Stevie whispered, about to turn away, but Lindsey put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. Removing his other hand from underneath her skirt, he looked her straight in the eyes as he popped his slick fingers into his mouth and sucked on them slowly and deliberately.

"God, that's good," he murmurs in her ear before giving her one more kiss. "Go ahead, I'll...uh, I'll catch up in a second."

"Think about that time your parents were skinny dipping," she suggested as she straightened the ruffles of her skirt and frowned in sympathy.

As soon as she turned the corner, she was accosted by a frantic Carol. "I can't find Lindsey!"

"He told me he was meditating. He's on his way," she promised, squeezing the other woman's shoulder. And true to her word, Lindsey rejoined the group a minute later, albeit looking flustered and sweaty and not at all meditative.

The atmosphere of the show seemed especially charged that night, the two of them exchanging little smirks and glances and Lindsey surreptitiously licking his lips or sticking his tongue out at her when they had their backs to the audience. She had hoped to find some way to get him alone later on, but Carol was watching him like a hawk in a Versace miniskirt from the second he left the stage and then they were off to Niagara early the next morning.

That was eight days ago and she'd barely seen him since. No matter how they tried, it seemed that the universe was conspiring to keep them apart. But still he'd managed to get her alone before each of the last four shows, even if they only had time to make out for a few minutes, and she had become conditioned to expect it like some sort of Pavlovian horndog.

"Fuck. You knew just what I wanted, didn't you?" he asked, smirking against her neck when his finger slipped easily inside her. "I've barely even touched you and you're so..."

She tugged on his hair to remind him not to leave a mark when he sucked on her pulse point. Although she may not have been dating Jimmy, that still wasn't something she wanted to explain. He pulled away from her and dropped down to his knees, kissing her inner thighs instead, and she cursed their bad timing. "Baby, we can't. I told him I was going to the bathroom, I'd be right back..."

"Goddamnit." She could tell that he loved knowing he'd stolen her away from her not-boyfriend, no matter how temporarily, but that also meant they had another person who might potentially notice that they'd disappeared together. "Come find me tonight."

"At the party?" In honor of John's birthday, they had rented out a club for a post-show celebration. (Mick's idea, not John's. John had yet to actually commit to attending his own party).

He held his fingers up to her lips, the tip of her tongue barely grazing his digits before he sucked them into his own mouth. "Mmhmm. It'll be crowded, no one will know... "

"You're going to get me in trouble, Mr. Buckingham," she said coyly. "You can't wait until he's gone tomorrow?"

"Can you?" he asked, giving her ass a squeeze.

"Well..." She reached out with one finger, tracing the outline of his length through his open fly as he shuddered. "You _have_ been a very good boy lately." She had managed to convince him to please, please, just leave Jimmy alone by promising to let him do any number of dirty things to her in the future if he didn't screw this up for her by chasing her potential suitor/producer away. "And I _have_ missed you. "

"Enough to let me bend you over the bar?" He was chuckling softly as he started kissing her neck again, but she knew he was partially serious. He'd only been trying to get her to have semi-public sex with him since they were 20 years old, after all, back when he'd make sure the windows were open while they fucked so that people could hear them on the street below.

She was well aware that she should've left by now, that it was getting riskier with every second that they were away, and yet she still hadn't even taken her hand out of his pants. "Nice try, but no."

"Then we'll find a corner booth," he said, thrusting into the loose circle of her fist, and _God_ she wants him, "and everyone will think you're just sitting on my lap, that we're just making out or something, because they can't see that under your skirt I've got my dick inside you."

She could distantly hear voices from down the hallway, and her head was repeating _you gotta go, you gotta go_ , but she just nuzzled his neck and held him closer. "I'll come find you tonight. We'll go out to the lot where the limos are parked and slip the driver a 20 to get lost so that we can fuck in the back."

"You're s-serious?" he said, hips stuttering along with his voice.

"Mmhmm." She reluctantly stopped touching him and zipped his pants back up, whispering in his ear to distract him. "I know how you like having me on my hands and knees on the seat, with my ass right there in front of you... "

"Steph. C'mon, now. Please." He grabbed her hand, trying to put it back between his legs, but she wasn't having it.

"We can't. But we will later, I promise. And I'll even let you roll the window down."

\-------------------------

"Where were you? You were gone for a long time."

As far as Stevie could tell, Carol hadn't noticed that Lindsey had returned (or that he was ever missing). She herself wasn't so lucky. "I ran into Linds on my way back. We were talking about changing up the setlist."

"Huh, okay." It was ironic that Jimmy reacted better to that excuse than he would've if she had told him that she was in the bathroom the whole time. He shouldn't worry, though. She's never bothered to hide anything she was using from him, even when it was obvious he disapproved. Honesty is important in relationships and she's being honest. Mostly. She's never pretended there was no one else in the picture.

"I know you want me all to yourself," she said to him last night when they were lying together in the dark, her hand resting on his bare hip. Her voice was matter of fact, almost resigned.

"Can you blame me?" He pushed away the curls that were falling in her face, his fingers brushing her cheek as he tucked her hair behind her ear. His fingertips were smooth, not rough and calloused the way that they should be. It's the first thing she notices every time she meets a new man. "I mean. You're pretty amazing."

"But you also know what it's like on the road." She doesn't do well with being lonely, and it's important that he understands this. Her lifestyle limits her freedom enough already without the expectation that she's being faithful to someone thousands of miles away.

"I do." She respects him for this, for not trying to convince her that it's somehow unbecoming for a woman to do the very same things that all the men she knows are out there doing unapologetically. Everyone except Lindsey, maybe. He told her he hasn't been with anyone but her and Carol since last year, and she believes him. "But you're not going to be out on the road forever."

"For now- let's just enjoy this for what it is and have fun, okay?" She could tell that he wasn't completely satisfied with that answer, but it was the best offer she had to make.

And now she sits with him on a couch away from everyone else, holding hands and talking quietly, but her eyes keep searching out the man who's giving her little secret smiles from across the room. "Hey. Stevie. You alright?"

"Sorry, honey," she says, looking away from Lindsey and giving Jimmy a kiss on the cheek. "What were you saying?"

"I was asking how long we have to stay at this thing tonight. It's my last night here and I'd kinda like to get back to the hotel before I have to turn around and head to the airport in the morning."

Her first instinct is to tell him that he can go back to the hotel anytime he wants, but she knows that's not what he's getting at. "But it's John's birthday."

"You really think he cares? You could shut him in an empty room with a case of Heineken and that's all the party he needs."

"I know, I know, but I've really been looking forward to this. There's gonna be a lot of people that I haven't seen in forever," she says.

"You've gone out almost every night for the last two weeks, who can there be that you haven't already ran into?" She can still feel Lindsey's eyes on her and she wonders if he's listening. "We won't see each other again until after Christmas. You sure we can't show up, say hi, and cut out early?"

She watches Carol practically skip over to Lindsey, rubbing her nose before she grabs him and basically shoves her tongue into his mouth. He's moved on, at least more than she has. There's still _something_ there between her and him, something more than 'just sex', but it has to be something less than love because in the end he always goes back to Carol. And now she has someone who truly wants all of her, not just when his girlfriend's back is turned, but she can't quite force herself to want him back. Not when he doesn't realize that she can't give him her whole self in return. He doesn't know that now, but he'll end up learning the hard way that her heart wants what it wants.

She reaches for the tiny vial on her necklace and taps a generous amount of the contents onto her wrist. "Okay, babe. We won't stay long."

\-------------------------

Lindsey lets out a low whistle as they step into the club, amazed at how many people were already packed into the building. Fleetwood Mac parties were legendary, of course, and he suspected that all of their friends and acquaintances who happened to be anywhere along the eastern seaboard had made it a point to show up tonight. Even people he wouldn't consider friends- Carol had told him that the Eagles and their entourage were going to be there too.

"Do you want me to get you a drink, baby?" Carol asks him over the din of the crowd.

"No, I want you to stay right here with me." He knows that if he lets her go now, he'll likely have to hunt her down after closing time because she's passed out on the women's room floor or under a table. They had both done a couple of lines in the limo, but she had obviously also been indulging during the show. By the time he got offstage she was wasted and Stevie wasn't far behind, the two women bumping shoulders and giggling about something in a moment of cocaine-induced camaraderie until he dragged Carol away.

Speaking of Stevie...he scans the room, wondering if she's arrived yet. But his search is interrupted by some prematurely balding guy from Warner who wants to slap him on the back and make drunken small talk like they're old friends. This is exactly what he hates about parties like this. He doesn't even remember the guy's name, only that he came by the studio two or three times while they were recording Tusk, helped himself to their liquor, and then disappeared with a certain blonde tambourine player for the rest of the night.

Mr. Whoever thumps him in between the shoulder blades one more time and then heads back to the bar. Carol is getting antsy. "You sure you don't want a drink?"

"I said no, Carol, why don't you ever listen?" She pouts but he ignores her, still on the lookout for Stevie. She'll get over it quickly. He's been a decent boyfriend as of late- the Niagara trip was a hit and frankly, he's been fucking the hell out of her multiple times a day to keep from going insane until he can have the woman he really wants again. Contrary to what Stevie might think, he has no problems when it comes to performing his boyfriendly duties. Carol is happy to do or say or wear whatever he tells her to and she's still naive enough to conflate sex with love, so everyone's a winner. Mostly.

He tries to steer her away from the outskirts of the room, closer to where he thinks Stevie might be, when he's jostled from the side by none other than Don Henley.

"Hey, watch where the fuck you're going!" he shouts, but he doesn't think the other man even noticed him. According to the gossip he's heard, there's trouble among their ranks, and it makes him perversely happy to know that his own band isn't the only one with problems. He shakes his head, rolling his eyes when Carol looks up at him. "For christ's sake, I think they invited everyone who's signed the guestbook in Stevie's bedroom."

"Oh my _God_ , you're so funny!" she cackles, and he glares at her until the smile on her face disappears. When is she going to figure out that it's only okay for _him_ to laugh about things like that? She's so fucking clueless sometimes.

He hears a commotion from near the front door and wonders if the birthday boy has arrived...no, just Stevie making her grand entrance. Rising up on the balls of his feet, he manages to catch a quick glimpse of her before she disappears into the crowd along with her midget producer. Damn, she looks good. She's got on this long red dress and her hair's up in the usual bun with these little white flower clips...the same ones Carol has in her hair, actually. Huh. He tries to remember if he was the one who got them for her, and when he looks over at her he realizes that the dress she's wearing isn't so different than Stevie's either.

"What is it?" Carol asks when she sees him watching her.

"Nothin'. You just...you look really pretty tonight," he says, and she beams with satisfaction. Stevie looks better. But he's not going to tell her that.

Deciding there's no way he's going to be able to pull Stevie out of the crush of people unnoticed, he suggests to Carol that they go back to the VIP area set aside for the band and their inner circle. Stevie will make her way back there eventually, and then he'll figure out how to get her alone.

It's hard to tell whether he's got incredibly keen hearing tonight or she's just that loud, but he distinctly hears her voice above the chaos, squealing in excitement and then gushing to someone about how 'it's so good to see you, honey, it's been forever.'

Whatever, he scoffs to himself as he and Carol head toward their table. She'll come find me. She promised.

\-------------------------

"I gotta go take a piss."

"My God, Lindsey, this is like the fifth time since we've been here," Carol complains, narrowing her eyes at him. "What is it you're doing?"

He knows that she thinks he's getting high without her, which he's not, but he still doesn't feel like answering that question. Luckily for him, Chris and Dennis come in right then and take a seat next to Carol in their oversized booth, and he's able to get away undetected while she's chatting them up.

He passes by the bar and sees Robin standing there talking with her boyfriend and Sharon. "Hey. You guys seen Stevie?"

"Not since before we left the venue," Robin says. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I know she's here, just...if you see her, tell her I'm lookin' for her?"

They nod their heads in agreement and he continues on his search, circling the dance floor without any luck. He decides to check near the entrance again, and that's when he spots Jimmy headed in the opposite direction with Stevie nowhere to be seen. "Hey dude. You know where Stevie's at?"

"Are you shitting me? I should be asking _you_ that question!"

"I haven't seen her since she walked in here," Lindsey says, on the defensive because of this unexpected attitude Jimmy was giving him. He had done a good job of staying out of the other man's way, or so he thought, and Jimmy himself hadn't said more than a few words to him all week. Maybe they weren't as discreet as they thought they were in the dressing room? But if that was the case, why would he wait until now to get angry about it? "What the hell's your problem?"

"You're really gonna do this? Look me right in the eyes and tell me you don't know what the fuck I'm talking about?"

He wants to say something about how he'd have to be down on his knees to look him straight in the eyes, but he keeps thinking about how Stevie had begged him not to start shit 'for me? Please?' in that soft little purr that she knows he can't resist. But then again, it seems like he's already screwed things up without even trying, so why hold back anymore when he's got days worth of insults queued up and ready to go? He takes a step forward so that their height difference is even more pronounced, looking down his nose at him. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Let's take this outside," Jimmy says, aware that they're starting to attract attention. Lindsey is _so_ confused, but if Jimmy's spoiling for a fight, that's what he's going to get.

Damnit. Stevie is going to kill him.

"Listen, I'm not trying to cause trouble," he says in one last attempt at diplomacy, because if there's still any chance of him getting laid tonight, he doesn't want to ruin it. "I just asked if you saw Ste-"

"I get it, okay, she's not my old lady. She's made it clear that she does what she wants. But to do it right under my fucking face- what's _your_ girlfriend have to say about that? She cool with your ex sucking you off in a club bathroom?"

In a... "Wait, what? Seriously, what's going on?"

"That wasn't you in there ten minutes ago grunting like a pig in shit?"

"If I was getting my dick sucked, I think I'd remember it," Lindsey retorts, trying to keep up his aloof facade and not let Jimmy know that he felt like he'd been kicked in the head with Stevie's high heeled boots.

He must have made a convincing point, because Jimmy's whole demeanor does an abrupt 180 as his clenched fists fall to his sides. "Fuck, man. It wasn't you."

"That's what I've been saying!"

"Then who the hell was it?"

A list of suspects would be about as thick as the LA phone book, but he doesn't think that's what Jimmy wants to hear. "How am I supposed to know? You're the one who saw it, I should be asking _you_ that question."

"I didn't see jack shit! I was lookin' around cause I couldn't find her, and I was getting kinda worried cause she seemed a little," he makes a gesture that Lindsey interprets to mean 'wasted', "so I went to check the bathrooms and I could hear her in one of the stalls. She was laughing, saying 'I can't believe we're doing this again,' and then...I didn't stick around for the rest."

"But you didn't recognize the guy's voice?"

"Nah. He wasn't exactly talking, y'know what I mean, and I couldn't see his feet or anything from where I was standing."

"Huh." Lindsey shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets, biting the inside of his cheek and pretending he doesn't feel like putting his fist through the glass in the door behind him. "I mean, I'm sorry 'bout that-"

"The fuck you apologizing for? I don't need you saying sorry to me, she's not my girlfriend, " he says with a scowl, like he's relaying something he's no doubt heard a time or two before.

Lindsey holds up his hands in surrender. "Hey, chill. I just dunno what you want me to do about all this."

"Nothing, if you're not the one screwing her."

"Can't say I am." It's only half a lie. He didn't ask if he _wanted_ to screw her, or even if he intended to be the one she was screwing tonight. At this point in time, he and Jimmy were on the same team, but it's not like he was going to tell him that. "So I'm just gonna go back inside and- yeah. Take it easy."

He slips through the door before this painfully awkward conversation could continue, heading straight to the bar and downing two drinks in rapid succession. It wasn't that he was pissed at this guy she was fucking. He wasn't thrilled about it, no, but he already knew he was far from the only man in her life. He was mad at himself for being stupid enough to trust anything she said, to think that maybe things between them had changed for the better since that talk they had back in New York. But mostly he was angry at her. If she had just wanted to have sex with someone, she knew he was ready and willing. So this guy, whoever the hell he is, has to still mean something to her. Even though at some point in the past, he inevitably broke her heart when they had a fight or she found out he was cheating on her or he dumped her to go back to his wife. The exact circumstances weren't important because the story always ended the same way. She would call him up or come to his house in the middle of the night, crying hysterically, and he would be the one to hold her and console her and reassure her that everything was going to be okay. More often than not, they would end up sleeping together. And then without warning she would be gone again, having met someone new or been lured back in by the same asshole who hurt her in the first place. So long, Lindsey. She never seemed to care how much _his_ life had been disrupted. All that mattered to her was that he was there when she came running, just like she knew he would be, because he never had figured out how to say no to her.

Fuck her. Stupid fucking whore.

When he gets back to the group's table, Carol is waiting for him with a drink and a dazed smile on her face. "Hiii baby...I got this for yooou..."

"Thanks," he says, ignoring how she's clearly been roaming around the club when he told her not to go anywhere. Are there any women out there that you can trust anymore?

"I'm bored. Come dance with me?"

"Not right now."

"What are you doing right now that's so important?" she asks, tapping her nails impatiently on the tabletop.

"Jesus, Carol, I said no!" His outburst is enough to momentarily draw the attention of Mick and Sara, who've been dry humping each other on the other side of the booth. At least _someone's_ getting lucky with the girl they came with tonight.

"Where's Stevie?" Carol looks around the room, still sulking. "She told me before that she'd dance with me. "

"Yeah, well, Stevie tells a lot of people a lot of things she doesn't mean. Get used to it."

He's surprised to see Jimmy appear a few feet away from him, not saying anything but looking anxious. When they make eye contact, Jimmy gives him the 'come here' gesture and he slides out of the booth with no small amount of reluctance. Who's she giving head to now?

Carol is incensed. "You're leaving again?"

"Care, if you wanna dance, then go dance."

"Oh, so you're okay with your girlfriend being out there on the dance floor with strangers?"

"I don't know, I just assumed you could dance without jumping on someone's dick," Lindsey says, taking a swig from Mick's beer while his mouth is way closer to Sara's tits than he ever wanted to see. "Am I wrong?"

Richard saves the day just then, coming up behind him and holding his hand out to Carol. "My lady, would you give me the honor of your company?"

"Thanks, man, I owe you," Lindsey says under his breath as Carol giggles and grabs Richard's hand.

"Yeah, you do," he agrees. "So what's up with the midget? You buddies now?"

"You don't wanna know. Just keep an eye on Carol for me?"

Jimmy watches in amusement as they walk away, Carol gripping onto Richard's arm to keep her balance. "She's a firecracker."

"Is that what you came over here to tell me?" Lindsey asks, reaching into his pocket for a joint. He lights up and holds it toward Jimmy to offer him the first toke.

"Nah, I'm good. I hate the smell."

Lindsey sticks it between his lips, waiting for Jimmy to continue. When he doesn't, he exhales slowly, not bothering to turn his head and blow the smoke away from his companion. Jimmy looks reluctant, like the way his brothers used to when their dad forced them to apologize to their youngest sibling for whatever older brother stunt they had just pulled on him. "So? What are we doing here?"

"I found Stevie. But now, uh. I need your help."


	13. singing old songs, dreaming new things (1997)

_**May 1997** _

For the first 32 years of her life, Stevie loved her birthday.

Sure, there were a few hiccups along the way. On her 5th birthday, it rained and they couldn't go to the zoo like her parents had promised. On her 16th birthday, she spent half the day in the nurse's office after she tripped on the stairs at school and hit her head. On her 21st birthday, Lindsey got the cops called on him for stealing flowers out of his neighbor's yard to give to her as a gift. And on her 30th birthday, she woke up hungover and naked in bed beside Mick- enough said. So it wasn't always perfect, but she still anticipated it with excitement every time it came near. _Especially_ during that May of 1980.

Everything was going according to plan. She and Lindsey had flown back to LA late at night after their final show of the second US leg of the Tusk tour, and they were intending to fly up to San Jose the next afternoon. She had the dress hanging in her closet- a silky white sundress that she bought off the rack with the hope that she could still get into it by the time her birthday came around. To her delight, it fit almost perfectly. You could tell that her stomach had a roundness to it that wasn't there before, but for the first time she wasn't worried about trying to hide it.

_You're sure you want to do this on your birthday?_ Lindsey had asked. She was sure. "That way, our anniversary will be a day you won't forget. No excuses."

And then on the morning of the 25th, with less than 24 hours to go until her 32nd birthday, everything changed. They never made it to San Jose and she never knew what happened to that dress. She told Robin to get rid of it, that she couldn't stand to look at it again. It was bad enough that her birthday became the most difficult, most devastating day of her life. She didn't need any more reminders of what could have been.

After that year, her birthday was just a day with a built-in excuse to get fucked _all_ the way up on her current substance(s) of choice. Who was going to tell her no? It was her birthday and she was allowed to have a good time.

(She never had a good time. She hated her fucking birthday, but most people didn't know that. Even fewer people knew the reason why.)

Once she got sober, though, her birthday got even harder. Being clear headed was a blessing 364 days of the year, but an almost unbearable burden when you were reliving a real life nightmare in surround sound and technicolor. Why did it have to be on her birthday? She remembers begging them for one more day, _please_ , only to be told _we're sorry, but we can't wait any longer._ Not when she had to be a good soldier and get on a plane to Europe three days later like her whole world hadn't just been shattered.

For the past three years, she had spent her birthday at her parents' house, refusing to go anywhere or talk to anyone but them. Her mother thought it wasn't 'helpful to dwell on it,' that it's not what her little girl would've wanted for her. _That's easy for you to say when your children are still living_ , Stevie had shouted at her before locking herself in the guest room.

Her mom later apologized, admitting she was wrong, and they had a good mother-daughter cry together. She was more understanding after that, but Stevie could tell that it was still difficult for her to know her child was hurting when there was nothing she could do to fix it.

(It was a feeling Stevie herself knew all too well.)

But now, for the first time in 17 years, she wasn't filled with dread as late May arrived and the day grew closer. Because for the first time in 17 years, she was going to be spending her birthday with Lindsey. They had always made it a point to avoid each other on that day, even if they were working together, and his only acknowledgment of the date was the way he specifically never wished her a 'happy birthday '. Which, really, was the kindest thing he could have done for her at the time. To think she could possibly be happy on that day would imply that he had forgotten.

She knows now that he never did. They haven't talked about the significance of the day, but she can tell it's on his mind by the careful way he's approached the subject. She's grateful that he suggested they go away, not just because she definitely wants to have a lot of sex with him, but also because that way she can keep her birthday low-key and private.

"Is there anything specific you want to do that day?" he had asked.

"Yeah. You." She managed to keep a straight face until she got the words out, but then cracked up at seeing his expression. "I'm serious! It'll be our first full day there and I plan on spending the whole time in bed."

"The whole time?" He seemed way too surprised by her forwardness for a guy who had been watching her getting herself off in her dressing room just hours earlier.

"Well, I don't know," she says, pretending to think about it. "I guess we could move to the couch if we're feeling adventurous."

"In that case...it _is_ your day, so your wish is my command. Anything to make you hap- I mean. "

"Happy. And I will be, baby." She knows he still isn't ready to talk about it, and she doubts he ever will be. She wishes that they could, even though it would hurt, because there really isn't anything he could say that would make it hurt more than it already does. But she's made peace with it, accepted that he may never be able to forgive her. He loves her, he wants to be with her, and that tells her all she needs to know.

They're putting the past away. He's 'officially' her boyfriend now. She adores the way that sounds, like they're carefree kids in the throes of young love, because that's how she feels. She's excited about the future, about her birthday, and about spending it reconnecting with her _boyfriend_ (!) after so many birthdays spent apart.

She thinks it's what her- _their_ \- little girl would've wanted for her.

\-------------------------

Of course, her birthday wasn't the only upcoming event that was on her mind. They were taping their MTV special at the end of the week and the pressure was on. There had been a few people from Warner who had stopped by during rehearsals, and they'd had that whole camera crew in to interview them last month, but those were the only audiences they had had thus far, which made it hard to really judge how people were going to react. They knew how much was riding on this and knew that they had their share of doubters, but the five of them couldn't deny that they all felt like they were on the verge of something big. It was the same feeling that they'd had when they were putting the finishing touches on Rumours, that what they had accomplished together was incredible and the world wasn't going to know what hit it. Only this time, no one was bordering on homicidal. Maturity, sobriety- whatever it was, they were having much more fun this time around.

Not that there weren't a few minor spats or tempers flaring mildly, especially as the big day approached, but they dealt with it.

"Lindsey!" Stevie barked from the doorway of her dressing room. "Get over here, I need to talk to you. Now."

They were hours away from their final rehearsal and Lindsey had been in a mood all day, his perfectionist tendencies out in full force. Now they were supposed to be on a break, but he had cornered one of the young sound guys and started talking his ear off about some minute detail or another. "What is it? I swear, this kid- Sean or Scott or whatever the fuck his name is, he's not-"

"It will get fixed," she promised him, shutting the door behind them and kneading the muscles in his shoulders with the pads of her fingers. "Just let the poor guy eat, he's been going nonstop all day and it's finally lunchtime. You need a break too."

"I'm not hungry."

"I know. You're crabby because you're not getting laid and so you're taking it out on unsuspecting crew members." He wasn't the only one getting irritable with three days left to go before ending their self-imposed celibacy, but you would think it was him who hadn't had sex since Clinton's first term in office rather than her. It was tough, there was no doubt about it, and they would've given in already if they weren't so busy and tired from rehearsals. Not that they were _completely_ exhausted... "Good thing I'm not hungry either. Now lock the door unless you want Karen barging in."

It didn't take long at all for kissing to turn into something more, hands roaming frantically because they knew that they could be interrupted at any second and they both really needed to get off, goddamnit. Listening to each other over the phone was fun, but it wasn't as fun as teasing each other in person while trying not to get caught.

She felt like she was in her 30s again as she laid on top of him on her dressing room couch with her clothes and makeup strewn all around them, massaging him through his jeans. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Y-yeah," he stuttered, head tilted back against the armrest as she kissed his neck. Then he took her hand in his, moving it away from him. "Touch yourself. I wanna watch." She sat back between his spread thighs, legs tucked underneath herself, and pulled up her long skirt until the hem was resting just above her knees. He watched her every move intently, becoming annoyed when her hand disappeared under her skirt. "I can't see anything."

"You can see enough." She sighed as she got her hand into position, fingers teasing her slit. A girl's gotta have some mystery about her, after all, and so she was going to make him wait before he got to see all of her.

"But-"

"I've already got my tits out. Now stop whining, I'm busy." He pushes himself up into a sitting position, arm around her waist to help her balance as he licks at her nipples. She sinks one finger inside herself and starts circling her clit with her thumb. "Ohh. This was a good idea, baby."

He grumbled- well, as much as he could with his mouth already occupied. She was unsurprised to find out that he was still a breast man, but she had wondered if hers would hold the same appeal now that time and gravity had started to take their toll. Turns out he was just as fixated on them as he had ever been and she couldn't lie, it made her feel sexy and wanted in a way that she hadn't felt in a very long time.

But that wasn't the only thing he was interested in. He reached for her wrist, and she whined as he pulled her hand away from her body. "What are you doing?"

"I want a taste," he said, wrapping his mouth around her fingers and rubbing his tongue against them in a way that was truly obscene. When he was finished, she went back to fucking herself on her saliva-coated digits while he fumbled to undo the fly of his jeans with one hand. "So fucking good, Steph, I need more."

She hummed noncommittally, her free hand resting on his shoulder to hold herself up when her knees start shaking as she put more pressure on her clit. He managed to get his pants down far enough to get his dick out, but as soon as he did he was grabbing her hand again. "Lindsey!"

"I missed this, God," was his only explanation as he sucked on her fingers, making sure he had lapped up every last bit of her juices before letting go. She gave it another try, rubbing herself against the heel of her palm in an attempt to get herself off as quickly as possible, but she wasn't fast enough.

"You're such an asshole." Giving up on the hope that he'd leave her alone long enough to let her come, she reached down and wrapped her slick hand around his cock. "I don't know why I'm doing this for you."

"Yeah, you do."

"If you don't shut the hell up..." Truthfully, she guesses that she kinda owes him. Yesterday he had managed to get her off just by playing with her tits, a feat he had never before accomplished when she wasn't either high or pregnant, but it had taken the entirety of their short break and she had ran off and left him to his own devices when Karen started yelling that she was already 15 minutes late for a wardrobe fitting. (She told her she had been napping. Karen didn't believe her).

She kissed him before he could respond, feeling him groaning into her mouth as she swirled her thumb around the head of his dick. Christ, she wanted him inside her. And he knew it. "You're not gonna last, Steph."

"What are you talking about?" She took his hand and put it back on her breast, watching his hips jerk upward with every stroke of her own hand.

"I'm saying- ohh, jesus- you can't wait another three days for me to fuck you."

She pinched the inside of his thigh in warning. "What'd I tell you about shutting the hell up?"

"You know I'm right." He squeezed her ass, nudging her forward so that his cock was brushing her center through her skirt, and _God_ she's about to lose it.

But she won't tell him that. Instead she licks at the shell of his ear, whispering _I know you're going to fuck me so good, big boy_ like they've gone back in time 20 years, touching and talking and teasing each other into a frenzy while they're hidden away in someone's dressing room.

"C'mon, baby. Lemme see you come for me," she says in a soft voice, running her nails over his chest and stomach. She normally loved bringing him right to the edge and then pulling back, all slower movements and lighter touches until he was begging her for it, but today she wasn't going to wait. Neither was he, apparently, because he was coming undone in her hand as soon as she said the words.

"Steph?"

"Mmmhmm?" She kisses the dip in his collarbone before reaching for the kleenex box that somehow got knocked to the floor when they weren't paying attention.

"Can I come pick you up Saturday morning at, I dunno, five o'clock or so?"

"Five o'clock?" she says, laughing at the absurdity of this request. "I probably won't even have gone to bed by then!"

"You can sleep while I drive. But the sooner we get there, the sooner we can..."

"What, like you're not going to pull off the road somewhere in the desert and want to screw me in the backseat? The answer is no, by the way," she hurries to say before he can get any ideas. "Neither of us is as flexible as we were at 25, y'know, and having to make an emergency visit to the chiropractor, that would really kill the mood. Besides, I haven't waited two and a half years just for us to fuck in your car."

"Yeah, yeah. You-"

"Stevie?" comes Karen's familiar voice from the other side of the door. "You in there?"

"Uh, yeah, what's up? " she calls back in what she hopes is a casual tone, fumbling with the buttons on her shirt and pushing her hair back from her face while she signals to Lindsey to stay quiet.

"Just letting you know break's over in five. And if you see Lindsey," she continues, sounding amused, "maybe you could tell him that Sean the sound guy is looking for him?"

"She'll pass that along," Lindsey says, Stevie bursting into laughter with a hand over her mouth.

"Thanks! Knew she could." They can _hear_ Karen's eyes rolling as she walks away, muttering to herself. "Like a couple of teenagers, swear to God...I need a fuckin' vacation..."

\-------------------------

"Oh honey, it's so good to see you," Barbara Nicks gushed to Lindsey when she arrived on the night of the first taping. "I can't believe how long it's been- and you look as handsome as ever!"

"Down, Mom," Stevie said, smirking at Lindsey as if to say 'I told you they still like you'.

He leaned over, gladly accepting hugs from both of Stevie's parents. "It's good to see you too. I'm glad you could make it."

"We wouldn't miss it for the world, " Barbara assured him. "I just wish we had more time to catch up. Are you sure you don't want to stop by while you're in Sedona? I have a doctor's appointment on Monday, but on Tuesday we could-"

Jess cut her off upon seeing the glances his daughter and Lindsey were giving each other. "Barb. I think the kids want a little privacy, you know?"

"Oh, of course," she said, and Lindsey was equal parts grateful and mortified to know they were thinking about him in a compromising situation with their little girl. Not that he hadn't been in this position many times before- hell, he had endured the So You Got Our Daughter Pregnant interrogation- but still, it never got less uncomfortable. "Well, Teedee's already told us she'll come down to visit in August, so I expect to see you then too."

"I'll be there, " he promised her.

"That's what I like to hear! So we'll let you get back to work and we'll catch up with you after the show...come here, sweetheart." Mother and daughter embrace each other, talking quietly to one another, and Lindsey and Jess trade knowing smiles. He thinks about how they stood together like this on the Nicks' front lawn twenty-something years ago while the two women had hugged and cried.

Jess, trying to remain stoic, had tapped the trunk of Lindsey's old car. "Did you ever get this thing in for a tune-up?"

" I...I did, yeah."

"The motor's not making that funny noise anymore?" he asked, peering through the window at the jumble of boxes and suitcases that were crammed into the backseat.

"No, sir."

"I told you to stop calling me that," he grumbled, pointedly looking away from his sobbing wife and daughter. But he was fighting a losing battle, his own eyes becoming misty even as he spoke. "She's never been so far away from home before. She's never even been to summer camp."

"I know, s- I mean. I know."

"Just keep an eye on her for me, okay?"

"I will. I promise," he said, barely able to get the words out before the older man pulled him into a tight hug.

Jess has a similar look on his face now, fighting to keep his composure, but the sadness in his eyes has been replaced with pride. "Good luck tonight. Not that I think you'll need it."

"Thank you, I appreciate that. I-"

They're temporarily interrupted by the sound of Stevie and Barbara laughing about something, both of them wiping at their eyes. The two men look at each other knowingly and before Lindsey can say anything, he finds himself on the receiving end of another surprise hug.

"Take care of each other," Jess says. "Both of you."

\-------------------------

Stevie laid back on the (well-used) couch in her dressing room, eyes closed and headphones on as she took advantage of a quiet moment to relax and try calming her nerves. Last night had gone well after her initial shakiness, but they all agreed they needed to step up their game for tonight, and they were grateful that they would have another shot at getting it as close to perfect as possible.

The tape she was listening to was an old one, something she had turned to again and again over the last several years whenever she was worried or upset or just plain pissed off. Lindsey had made it for her after she had written to him while in rehab, complaining that she was having trouble sleeping and they wouldn't give her anything. She wasn't allowed to have visitors for the first ten days after she got out of detox, but he promised her he'd be there as soon as he could and he kept that promise, showing up the minute visiting hours started and not leaving until the very last second before they locked the front doors for the night. He brought her the snacks she was craving and half a dozen different air fresheners because she hated the way the place smelled and they wouldn't let her light candles- it was apparently against some stupid fire code regulation. They talked and watched TV and went for a walk, and she doesn't remember him letting go of her hand even once for the entire time he was there.

She got upset when he had to go because she didn't want him to leave; she was bored and lonely and no one else had told her they were planning to come visit, not even her parents. At that point, she was pretty sure that her family hated her. But he swore that he'd be back and he left her with the tape, telling her to listen to it later. When she did, she discovered that it was a recording of him just playing his guitar by himself, like she used to hear all the time back when they lived together. There were old songs, a few new things he was working on, and stuff she could tell he was improvising on the spot. It was the best gift he could've given her and she loved him so much for it, enough that she was even able to overlook how she could smell liquor on his breath when he had showed up at 11 in the morning.

As the tape ended, she decided to go find Karen and ask if she knew when Lori and Chris were supposed to be coming. She wandered down the hall in search of her and spotted Lindsey from a distance, chatting with Mick and Lynn and a young blonde woman. At first she assumed it was one of the Fleetwood girls, but as she got closer and saw more of her side profile, she realized it was someone she didn't know.

"John's puttering around here somewhere, I'm sure he'd want to say hello," Mick tells the stranger, his eyes widening when he sees Stevie watching them. "There you are! We were just talking about you."

"Oh really, " she says, sizing up this girl who was standing way too close to Lindsey for her liking. Wait, was this...

"Stevie, this is Kristen, she's a friend of mine," Lindsey explains, everyone staring at her and eagerly awaiting her reaction. "Kristen, this is my- Stevie."

"A friend, huh? How nice," she says as she forces her mouth into a tight smile, stepping closer to Lindsey and resting her hand on his lower back. God, she was _young_ young. Like smooth skin, perky little boobs, still gets carded every time she sits down at the bar young.

She seems starstruck, giggling quietly, and Stevie congratulates herself on being able to temporarily knock Little Girl off her game. "It's really good to meet you, wow. I mean, I wanted to _be_ you when I was a kid."

_When I was a kid._ Her momentary victory forgotten, she suddenly feels every bit of her 48 years and 363 days. "Aren't you sweet. Anyway, I've got things to do, so I'll see you all later."

She tosses her hair and strides away before anyone can object, head held high.

\-------------------------

Lindsey hears her laughter before he sees her, poking his head into the open doorway of her dressing room and finding her with her niece on her lap as they giggled about something together. Jesse is dressed like a miniature version of her aunt in a black dress with sheer sleeves, but with the addition of a pair of sparkly Minnie Mouse ears on her head, and for a moment he feels that familiar pang of regret that he never had another chance to make Stevie a mother. There's a lot of things in his life that he'd do differently if he had the chance, but that's the one that will always be at the top of the list.

"Hi," the little girl calls out to him curiously, no doubt wondering who this stranger watching her was.

"Hi there," he says, ignoring the way Stevie's expression hardened when she saw him. "I didn't know Minnie Mouse was going to be here tonight!"

Jesse laughs, and Stevie finishes tying off a braid in her hair with a red ribbon. "There you go, sweetie. Are you hungry? Why don't you go find Karen and she'll get you a snack while I talk to Lindsey here?"

She nods and runs off, shutting the door behind her at her aunt's request. Stevie ignores him and sits down in front of the mirror to start brushing her own hair.

"You wanted to talk?" he reminds her.

"You're the one who came looking for me, aren't you? And where'd your little friend go? Did she have to head home and study for her algebra quiz tomorrow?"

"Wait, what?"

She purses her lips, watching his reflection in the glass. "I'm amazed she's allowed to be out this late on a school night."

"It's Friday, " he says, but his attempt at humor falls flat. "Seriously, I...what did I do? I told you before that she was going to be here."

"You did. You just left out the part about how she's not old enough to rent a car."

Was that something he was supposed to tell her? "You never asked. And I didn't know it was important. Is it?"

"No, no. It was a surprise, that's all."

"Uh huh. Well. She was really excited to meet you," he says, trying to appeal to her ego.

"So are a lot of people." She puts down the brush and picks up a smaller hand mirror, frowning at some sort of blemish on her face visible only to her. "Now did you come here just to find out what I thought about her, or was there something else?"

She gets up out of her chair and turns around, but he steps in front of her before she can walk past him. "I'm sorry if that was weird, or...you won't have to see her again after tonight. I swear."

"What, you mean you didn't already promise her backstage passes for the tour?"

" No," he lies. It's okay, he'll just screen his calls when the time comes and 'forget' to get back to her, if she herself hasn't forgotten about it six months from now. Stevie looks unimpressed, still trying to get around him as he touches her arm. "I told you, she's just a -"

"Did she ask if you had a girlfriend? "

"Huh? Why does it matter? She asked and I said I was seeing someone, but-"

"Of _course_ she did," Stevie says knowingly.

"What's that supposed to mean? It's just a friendly question."

She rolls her eyes, and he still isn't sure what he's missing here. "No, it's her way of sizing up the competition."

"Stevie. I don't know what you're worried about-"

"I'm not _worried_ about anything," and oh, that was the wrong thing to say. "I just got a bad feeling from her. You know I'm very intuitive about this stuff. Now will you please let me go get my tea?"

Reaching for the mug and handing it over, he can feel the walls being hastily constructed all around her and he has to admit that he's having trouble figuring this out. The Stevie he knew might have a few scathing remarks for an ex of his in public, but in private she'd be smugly preening herself on successfully running off her opponent. Hell, whenever she'd caught wind of him having a new girl, that was usually her cue to sink her claws into him just to prove that she could. (And she always could, which is why most of those women didn't last long at all.) But then he thinks about how she reacted when she found out about Kristen in the first place, how for a week afterward she would kiss him and then bite her lip and look down at her feet like she was fighting some invisible battle in her head.

She's insecure about something and he's not sure what it is. He wants to tell her that there's no reason for her 'bad feeling' and no reason to see Kristen as some sort of competition, that when he looked at her tonight he saw her as a friend who had been there for him during a rough time in his life and nothing more than that. But he knows from experience that trying to convince her that way will be useless, so instead he loops his arms around her shoulders and turns her so that they're both facing the mirror. "Steph. Look at me."

"I've got things to do, Lindsey, I don't have time for-"

"Look at me," he repeats, and she huffs at his insistence, but a moment later he feels her relax against him as her eyes finally meet his. "Thank you." He buries his face in the crook of her neck, nosing at the spot behind her ear where he's seen her dab perfume so many times before. "I love you. I'm so fucking _in love_ with you."

She pauses, but there's no hesitation in her voice when she speaks. "I love you too."

"Good, because tomorrow," he says, dragging the word out into about six syllables, "I'm going to show you just how much. Remember? I promised you I'd make up for every single day we missed out on."

She smiles for the first time since the conversation had begun, reaching behind her head to run her fingers through his curls. "That could take a long time...you sure you're up for it?"

"Fine by me, because I'm not letting you go again. Not now, not ever."

She thinks about that awkward encounter earlier in the evening, how he had never taken his eyes off of her from the second Mick noticed she was there until the moment she made her hasty exit. She thinks about when she told him she needed more time because she was too scared to say that she _was_ scared, how patient he had been and how he fidgeted with his hands clasped in front of him when he asked _can I kiss you? I mean, is that okay?_ even though they'd been sleeping in the same bed the night before.

She thinks about when the two of them were talking to her parents before the show last night, how her mom had pulled her aside and said "Well, I see he's still as crazy about you as he's always been."

"Mom..." she said, shaking her head at how her mother practically had wedding bells in her eyes. Wasn't she the one telling her to be careful and not rush into anything just a few months ago?

"Just answer me this. Right now, are you happy?"

"Yeah. I really am," she said as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

Already knowing the answer before she spoke, her mother hugged her tightly. "Then don't let your own stubbornness get in the way of what you want."

She turns so that her forehead is resting on Lindsey's chest, then lifts her head and kisses him softly. "You have me. All of me."

\-------------------------

The second show was different.

The first night was about preventing disaster, about technical competency and reassuring themselves and the audience that this wasn't just a circus full of middle-aged freaks set to music. Everything went well, once Stevie remembered the intro to Dreams, but they were playing it safe. And that was to be expected, because it always went like that at the beginning of a new tour, even when they _hadn't_ just come off of a 15 year hiatus.

But on the second night, that changed. Muscle memory and instinct had started to kick in, and Stevie found herself concentrating less on how to sing the songs and more on the songs themselves.

She had always thought of performing with Fleetwood Mac as part concert and part Broadway musical. The songs told a story, one that was playing out between the people on stage- but it wasn't a play and she wasn't just acting out a role. It was real, and sometimes uncomfortably, unbearably so. That's what made it magical and ultimately, made it impossible to continue doing night after night.

She had told herself, and anyone else who asked, that now she was 'over it'. Meaning that enough time had passed that she could sing these old songs and enjoy them for what they were, remembering how they came about and feeling that emotion almost second handedly rather than re-experiencing it right then and there. That's how it had been in rehearsals, at least.

Turns out that she might have been a little wrong, that maybe she wasn't as over it as she had thought. Because as soon as she stepped out onto the stage that night, as the opening notes to The Chain rang out and she let herself think about something beyond _don't fuck this up_ , it all came back again. The highs and the lows and the heartbreak and the healing and the loves and losses and the naive little gypsy girl who sat on the floor and dreamed about big things because she didn't realize she had _everything_ right fucking there in front of her.

And that was all before it was even time for Silver Springs. This one was different than any other on the setlist to begin with simply because she'd waited what seemed like her whole life for this, those few performances back in '76 aside. But then somewhere during the guitar solo she found herself transforming, caught in between who she was now and the younger woman who wrote those words with an almost preternatural sense of what her heart was going to endure over the next 20 years. She belted those words out like a warning, _you'll never get away,_ to Lindsey and to herself and to the Stevie she was before, that you can keep running and keep fighting and keep denying but eventually you'll have to feel it all, even if that moment comes on a soundstage in front of a room where hundreds of pairs of eyes are fixed on you.

The director stops them as the song ends, something about needing to adjust the cameras, and she takes off for their hidden private area behind the set before anyone can stop her. They all probably think she's going to either cry or throw chairs but instead she feels so fucking amazing, drained and energized at the same time like when you've just finished having unbelievable sex but now all you want is to go four more rounds. All the pain and anger that she thought she was 'over' before, it turns out that it was still there, just waiting for this one particular moment of catharsis to be released. So maybe she wasn't 'over it', but she doesn't care, because she just _kicked its ass_. And now there's just one more thing she wants.

"Stevie?" he calls out quietly, stepping into the little alcove she's found for herself behind where the extra equipment is stored, and without a word she reaches for his face and crushes their mouths together in the darkness. The kiss is bruising, unyielding as she claims every last millimeter of his mouth as her own. As if it had ever belonged to anyone else.

"Hey, are- are you alright, are you-"

"Lindsey." He knows that tone. His dick sure as hell knows that tone. "As soon as this is over, as soon as we can, we're going to get the fuck out of here and you're going to take me home. Do you understand?"

He's not certain that he does. "You mean we're, you want to-"

"I'm done waiting."

Happy birthday, indeed.


	14. every time I see you falling (1979)

_**November 1979** _

_"I found Stevie. But now I need your help."_

"Me?" Lindsey asks. Pretty bold of this guy to come asking him for help after he just got done accusing him of screwing around with Stevie, but okay. "Where's she at?"

"She's-"

" _Jesus_ fucking Christ," Stevie says, appearing out of nowhere to answer Lindsey's question for herself. She's swaying on her feet, limbs seemingly all twitching to their own beat, and he kinda can't help but wonder how she was able to give head in this condition. "It was you! I should've known it was you!"

"Stevie, hey." Jimmy reaches for her arm, trying to calm her, but she smacks his hand away.

"Be quiet, I'm talking to Lindsey here! How dare you make shit up about me, trying to turn people against me- is your life so pathetic that you have nothing to do but fuck with mine?"

"Stevie, he didn't..."

She ignores whatever Jimmy's trying to say and focuses solely on Lindsey, jabbing him in the chest with one finely sharpened fingernail twice for emphasis. "When are you going to stop, huh? _When_?"

"I don't know," he says, trying to sound as bored as possible because he's only a few drinks and a couple lines in, meaning he's much too sober to fight with her. "Probably whenever you tell me what I supposedly did."

She bares her teeth at him, making a noise that's part growl and part scream. "You told Jimmy I was fucking around with someone else! That I'm cheating on-"

"What, now you're cheating? I thought he wasn't your boyfriend," Lindsey points out, unable to resist getting a cheap shot in when the opportunity presented itself.

The midget looks like he's wishing for a six inch deep hole to open up beneath his feet and pull him underground. "Stevie. I'm serious, he didn't-"

"Oh, so then _you're_ the one who's lying! Is that what you're saying? Either you're a liar, or you're lying to cover for him, which makes you an even bigger liar! " Lindsey could tell that she was struggling to think this through, her eyes almost rolling back in her head from the effort, and he would've laughed if he wasn't clenching his jaw so tightly to keep himself from lashing out at her in return. "I can't- too many lies! Too. Many. Lies! "

"No one's lying to you-"

"Shut _up_!" she shouts, determined to not let Jimmy finish a sentence. "I know someone's lying, cause you're saying I was sucking someone's dick on the bathroom floor, and I didn't- I don't do that. That floor is _disgusting_!"

"Okay, Stevie, enough. You're making a scene," Lindsey hisses, aware that a small crowd is forming around them and that unfortunately, none of Stevie's girls are nearby to drag her away. "I get it, we're all liars. I'm done with this."

"You're _done_ , huh? He's done," she announces to no one in particular. "See, cause I'm done with you, but you can't accept that! You keep chasing after me and then when you don't get what you want, you try to saba...sabo..." She shakes her head, changing tactics. "You wanna go out there every night and sing your 'fuck you Stevie' songs and have your little girlfriend follow you around all day, but in prid...priv...when no one else is around, it's a _whole_ different story, isn't it? At least, you wish it was. Like I would _ever_ -"

Every vein in his head and neck now on the verge of rupturing, he pushes past her without a word. He hears her whining loudly, _you bastard, that hurt!_ , and then continuing to curse his existence in front of her assembled audience as he heads out the door into the night.

\-------------------------

"Whatever it is, you can fuck off, okay? I'm not getting involved."

Lindsey had taken refuge behind the building, pacing back and forth and swearing to himself. He didn't think he was being that loud, but then the disheveled man who was slumped against a nearby dumpster got up and scuttled down the alley away from him, cradling his paper bag as he went.

Great, even the winos thought he was crazy.

He picked up a couple of discarded beer bottles that were lying around, smashing them onto the pavement and imaging that he was breaking them over her head. When the bottles were gone and he wasn't feeling much calmer, he pulled out another joint and stuck it between his teeth, hoping that would chill him out so that he could go back in there to grab Carol and get the fuck out of this place.

But before he could do that, the midget had found his hideaway. "I'm not here to- I just wanna apologize for all this shit. I didn't mean to drag you into-"

"Where's Stevie?"

"Dunno. She took off again right after you did and I figured, maybe she needs to be alone for a bit." Lindsey doubted she was alone, but he kept that to himself. "I swear, I never said anything about you when I confronted her. I told-"

"I'm not trying to get back together with her," Lindsey says, ignoring Jimmy's attempt at an apology. Although he didn't appreciate it, he could brush off her allegations about him lying to Jimmy because he knew they weren't true. But all that about him chasing after her, not being able to let her go? Bullshit. She was just as guilty of those things as he was, and for her to imply that he was the only one doing the pursuing and she had done nothing but refuse him? _Bullshit._ And of course she had to do it in front of other people for maximum impact, humiliating him when he knew that if he tried to defend himself, she would spin it so that _she_ looked like the victim in the eyes of her audience.

"It's okay. I figured it was crazy talk," Jimmy says. "Hell, she accused me of fucking around with Lori when I just met her two days ago. I've barely introduced myself to the woman, let alone screwed her."

"Yeah, she can get...paranoid. Especially when she's had too much blow."

"You think that's all it is?" Jimmy asks.

"What? Of course not, never."

"No, I- you don't think someone slipped her somethin', do you? " Lindsey snorts quietly, and he tries to explain. "I've just never seen her that aggressive before."

"Aggressive? Not our Stephanie," Lindsey deadpans. Boy, the midget had a lot to learn.

"That's why I was trying to find you in the first place, thought maybe you'd know what to do. I told her I knew what she'd been up to and _bam_ , it's like a switch flipped. I mean, she let you off easy in comparison. "

Lindsey watches his foot toeing at the gravel beneath him and scratches the back of his head. Easy. Yeah. Not like he'd been putting up with this for the last dozen years or anything. "I dunno what to tell you, man, other than just give her some space. By tomorrow, she probably won't even remember what she said."

"Really? "

"If she does, she'll pretend she didn't." If Jimmy intended to stick around, it was time for him to start building up his own list of Things We Don't Talk About.

"It's not like I didn't know she...well, she always calls me when she gets back to her hotel at 4 or 5 in the morning and she's obviously high as fuck, " Jimmy says, leaving Lindsey wondering when he ever asked. "And whatever, I'm just glad to know she's okay even if I can't always figure out what the hell she's talking about. But then she's in New York and she wants to go out and get fucked up every night. I say- you think we can stay in just once? She'll say yeah, sure, but there's always some excuse. So finally tonight she swears to me we'll leave early, she'll take it easy so she doesn't just pass out the second we walk through the door back at the hotel...and you can see how that worked out."

"Huh." So he wasn't even the only guy she had promised to fuck tonight. Not that he was all that surprised, but he himself had no intention of sleeping with Carol once they left the club. He just didn't _do_ that. If Carol really wanted to suck him off, he wasn't going to tell her no, but that was as far as it went. He wanted it to last, knowing that Stevie was the last one who'd touched him, pretending he could still smell her on him even if he'd showered hours earlier. Jumping right into bed with someone else, even his girlfriend, felt so empty and underwhelming and although they'd never talked about it, he'd assumed that Stevie felt the same way.

He needs to stop assuming this shit.

"And hey, I don't live under a rock," Jimmy continued on, oblivious to Lindsey's lack of enthusiasm for their conversation. "I've seen all sorts of stuff, but I guess all the girls I've dated have been pretty straight laced, you know?"

Lindsey did not, in fact, know. "Huh."

"Anyway, I'm gonna get outta here, got a flight back to New York first thing in the morning and I'm beat. But..." He pauses, noticing that the man who'd been sitting by the dumpster has returned and is looking at them like he wants to take back his territory. "I'm real sorry for accusing you of- I couldn't see anything, you know, couldn't see her _or_ the guy, but I heard her and then I guess I just figured it was you cause the dude kinda had a high pitched voice."

"Whatever, man, it's -"

"And I know you guys are...I dunno, she talks about you all the time so I thought maybe there was still something there."

Lindsey smirks, one corner of his mouth turned up wryly. "I can imagine what she says about me."

"Well. It ain't all glowing, course, but I feel like I must know you better than your own mother at this point!" He laughs, but Lindsey can tell he doesn't think it's all that hilarious. "Doesn't matter what we do, swear to God. I could ask her what she wants for breakfast and she'd be all 'Lindsey likes this that and the other thing for breakfast'. I don't even think she realizes she's doin' it! Anyway, see ya around."

"Yeah, you too," Lindsey says, holding up his hand in a weak wave goodbye as the other man walks away.

\-------------------------

Lindsey pushed open the door to the men's room, looking around to make sure no one spotted him before he ducked inside. He still didn't feel like interacting with anyone, but he'd realized that he still had some leftover blow on him and decided that was just what he needed to survive going back into the crowd to fetch Carol.

The door hadn't even fully closed behind him when he heard the sound of someone crying, mumbling and moaning to themselves in between sobs.

He knew that voice. "Stevie?"

She doesn't answer, so he goes over to the stall to check on her. She's slumped down in the corner, the side of her head resting against the wall and her legs stretched out in front of her, still talking quietly like she hadn't noticed he was there.

"Stevie," he repeats, crouching down to get a better look at her. Her mascara is smeared all over her cheeks and her face is shiny with sweat, tiny beads of perspiration forming at her hairline. He can smell the scent of stale vomit hanging in the room, but there's no telling where that came from. "Hey. Can you open your eyes?"

Again no answer- at least, nothing that's directed at him. But she's clearly breathing, so he leaves her alone for a moment and goes over to the bathroom door, flipping the lock closed as he glances at his reflection in the mirror. He doesn't look much better than her, the harsh lighting making the dark half-moons beneath his eyes even more prominent. Now he sees why Carol's attacking him with her makeup kit every chance she gets.

He heads back to where Stevie's still sitting on the floor. She doesn't seem to have moved since he left her, eyes closed and whimpering the way Ginny does when she can't find where she hid her favorite toy. "Y'know, you're really not supposed to be in here."

Her eyes fly open when she realizes that she's not alone, her whole body stiffening in surprise and the back of her head knocking against the wall. She groans in pain and hisses at him, something along the lines of _fuck off_ or _fuck you_ , before pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her forehead on her kneecaps.

"I can't understand you, you've gotta -"

"I _said_ , go away! " Her voice is still muffled but she's loud enough that there's no mistaking the message this time. "Just leave me alone. I don' wanna see you."

"Well, I don't really want to see you either, but-"

"Then _stop following me_!"

" You're... " Fuck it, there's no point in arguing with her. Especially not when she probably doesn't even realize where she is. There didn't seem to be any evidence that something sketchy had gone on, so she had probably just wandered into the first quiet place she found and took refuge there without bothering to read the sign on the door. "Let's just get out of here, alright?"

"Don't tell me what to do! You hate me anyway, so go," she pleads as she starts to cry harder, wheezing every time she tries to inhale, and he winces at the sound. Truthfully, he would love to take her advice and walk right out. He's way too drunk to play Florence Nightingale and those visions of cracking a bottle over her skull are still at the forefront of his mind. _Just leave her, let her sleep it off._ The thought of her waking up all alone, sprawled out on this disgusting floor (she was right about that much) is a tempting one- it's what she deserves. But he's afraid it wouldn't play out that way. If he didn't take her home, someone else would, and the only question is whether it would be a creepy stranger or a creep she already knew.

Shit. Okay. "You can hate me somewhere else, just not here. Do you think you can stand up?"

"Everybody hates me," she groans tearfully. "What'd I ever do to them? _You_ don't care about me."

"Stevie..." Nope, he definitely doesn't care about her. He's going out of his way to help her even though she probably won't remember it in the morning, even though he would probably get much more satisfaction by literally kicking her while she's down, and it's all because he doesn't fucking care. Man. He _wishes_ he didn't care. He's prayed to a God he knows doesn't exist, begging to be cured of caring, and all he got was-

"Shut _up_! 'm not talking to you! " She finally lifts her head, blinking as she tries to focus on him, but her head just falls forward again like her neck can't support its weight. "Issocold. I'm so cold."

He kneels down and presses the back of his wrist to the top of her clammy forehead. As he predicted, she's burning up. "Hey. What'd you take?"

"Jus' the usual," she slurs. "Gimme your coat. I'm cold."

He stands up again, hands on his hips and trying to think over the sound of her persistent crying. He'd always given Carol a Valium when she was a little too amped up and that would do the trick, leaving her dazed and smiling idiotically up at the ceiling until she fell asleep, but Stevie might've already tried that and he couldn't handle her OD'ing on him right now. Without any better ideas in mind, he goes over to the sink and wets a paper towel.

He sits down on the floor next to her and moves her hair to one side, pressing the paper towel to the back of her neck. She yelps and tries to bat his hand away. "You f-fucker, that's cold!"

"You're overheated, just fucking sit still and you'll stop shivering in a minute."

She whines like he's performing a root canal on her without anesthesia, the wheezing returning until she has no choice but to raise her head again. "I can- I can't breathe. Shit...I can't. I'm gonna die."

"You're not. Just relax."

"No! I'm suffocated," she insists, drawing in giant gulps of air in between sobs. "It h-hurts, Lindsey, I don' wanna die."

She tries to burrow into his side and he gently nudges her away from him, knowing it's not going to help her cool down if she's absorbing all of his body heat. Or maybe he just doesn't want her that close. It never leads to anything good, especially not after a night like tonight. "What hurts?"

"My chest, it's all tight...oh Jesus, I'm having a heart attack. Don't let me die. P-p-please. I can't breathe."

"You can. You're talking, that means you're breathing," he says as calmly as he can muster, glancing at his watch and thanking God that coke has a short lifespan.

"You don't know that! Oww...fuck..."

"I do. Here, give me your wrist." She holds her hand out to him, palm up, and he finds her pulse point with her thumb. He looks down at his watch and counts the beats, thankful for all those years of swim team first aid lessons that insured he could remember this stuff even when he was stoned off his ass. "You're okay, see?" He takes her fingers and puts them on the right spot on her wrist. As he predicted, her heart rate was on the high side but not dangerously so. "Feel that? It's your heartbeat. Means you're not dying."

"R-really?" she asks, finally looking at him with something other than pure contempt.

"Really. I promise. You just gotta calm down."

She nods and rests her head on top of her knees, hugging herself with her crossed arms. He hesitates, then reaches out and lightly rubs his fingers back and forth across the base of her neck. Her skin is impossibly soft, just like it always is, even when he tries to hate her. Is that why he never succeeds?

Over the course of several minutes, her wailing gradually dies down until finally she's silent. "Stevie, hey. You think you can get up now?"

"Why?" she asks, hugging herself tighter while she side-eyes him suspiciously.

"So we can get out of here." He cringes as he stands up, his pants having become stuck to the floor with God knows what. "I'll help you. Just take it easy."

The tears start up again as she shakes her head. "I don't...no. I told Jimmy...and then he left..."

"He went back to the hotel, " Lindsey fills in, biting his lip as soon as he says it and bracing himself to be grilled about where he got that information.

"Yeah," she says, too embarrassed by this admission to notice his slip up. "And now I. I don't h-have anywhere to go."

_You brought this on yourself_ , he wants to scream, but she looks so fucking sad and vulnerable and those tears are like goddamn kryptonite to him, they always have been. No use fighting it now. "It's alright. You can stay with me and we'll figure shit out in the morning."

She relents and he helps her to her feet, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. "I don' wanna talk to anyone, Linds... "

"We'll go out the side door," he promises. He doesn't exactly want to run into anyone who's going to start asking questions, well aware of how sketchy it looks for him to be leaving with his wasted ex clinging to him. "Just keep your head down."

She takes his instructions a bit too literally, her chin touching her chest as she shuffles along beside him, but they manage to make it out to the parking lot without attracting attention. He prods her until she climbs into the back of the limo, and he's about to follow suit when he hears a familiar voice from behind him. "Buck?"

"Wh- hey," he says as he looks over his shoulder and sees Richard, which in turn reminds him of who he'd left back in the club. He'd been so concerned with getting Stevie out of there that he had totally forgotten about Carol...fuck. "Where's Carol at?"

"Not sure. Last I saw she was with Chris and Dennis. She's not with you? "

Lindsey shuts the limo door before he turned his back on the car, not putting it past Stevie to wander out into the night while he was distracted. "I need you to do another favor for me. Can you make sure that Care gets back to the hotel? And then let her crash with you until morning?"

"Dude, Lindsey..."

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. But I'm headed there now with Stevie- nah, it's not like that," he insists as Richard starts to say no. "She's real fucked up, man, someone needs to keep an eye on her, and she and the midget already had it out. "

"And that someone's gotta be you?" Richard asks, already knowing the answer. "Seriously, though. She okay?"

"Yeah, she'll sleep it off. I hope. But tomorrow- the midget's got an early flight out. I'll send her back to her room and come get Carol," Lindsey promises.

"So what exactly am I telling her when she asks why we're having a slumber party?"

Lindsey shrugs, clapping him on the shoulder as he opens the limo door. "It's your call, man. I really owe you one."

"Uh, fuck yeah you do! Don't think I'll just forget about this!"

\-------------------------

She's already asleep and snoring when he gets into the car, stretched out on her side with her hands tightly clutching his jacket. She shifts in her sleep, exposing her bare calf, and he really shouldn't be thinking this way. It's a leg, man, get a grip. It's just a leg and she's just the bitch who's been fucking with you all night in every way _except_ the way she promised you she would.

The drive back to the hotel is a long one as they hit red light after red light. He drinks, and she sleeps, and every time he looks over at her he swears her skirt is riding up just a little bit higher.

Damnit.

\-------------------------

"Oh, no you don't."

"Excuse me?" Stevie tries to reach for her purse as Lindsey pulls it off of her shoulder, but he's too quick for her. "Gimme that!"

"No. Cause I know what you're doing, and- no." The nap seemed to have done her good, because she was able to get out of the limo and upstairs to his room under her own power and without any more meltdowns, but then she headed straight for the bathroom as soon as she walked through the door of his suite and there was no doubt in his mind what she was up to.

"You don't know shit! Now give it back to me."

"Why?" he asks, still holding it out of her reach.

She tries to rise up on her toes to grab it but ends up pitching forward on her high heeled shoes, bracing herself with a hand on his chest and then pulling away in disgust as soon as she's steady on her feet again. "Cause I need to change my tampon. There, are you happy?"

"You're not on your period."

"And how the hell would you know?" He stares at her until she remembers what they were doing backstage before the show and she shakes her head angrily, turning around and shutting the bathroom door in his face. "This is fucking ridiculous!"

The first thing she does once she's behind the closed door is feel around in the pockets of his jacket for anything he might have stashed away in there. No luck. Goddamn him, who the hell does he think he is? He's not her father or her boyfriend or her jailer, and she knows what she's doing. All she needs is a little something to take the edge off and shed the last of this anxious tension that's coiled up inside of her.

She looks at the various items scattered around the bathroom- most of them Carol's, of course. But they're also hers- her favorite shampoo, the perfume she's worn since she was a teenager, the moisturizer she uses every night. How would Carol know all of that? She's never had her over to her house, and she's certainly never discussed beauty products with her, so unless...oh. _Ohhh._

Interesting.

She opens up Carol's makeup bag, curious to see what else Lindsey might've 'recommended' to her, and the first thing she pulls out happens to be a prescription bottle. She reads the label and nods approvingly, unzipping the inside pocket of the bag in search of more options.

_Carol Ann, you might be useful for something after all._

\-------------------------

"What the fuck are you doing in there?" Lindsey calls out toward the bathroom after a suspiciously long period of silence.

He's stripped down to his boxers and reclining on the bed, choking down the dregs of what's left in the minibar after three days. Why the hell didn't Carol call and ask them to restock it like she was supposed to? It's not like she's done anything else lately but snort lines, suck him off, and complain about every minute he's not spending with her.

Stevie comes out of the bathroom in a cloud of perfume, smirking to herself like she's daring him to say something about it, and he feels a bit nauseous in a way that has nothing to do with the swill he's been drinking. Busted.

"I used your toothbrush," she says, reaching down to move her shoes from where she had kicked them off in the middle of the floor. He's staring straight at her ass and he knows that's intentional on her part, but he's past the point of being able to ignore it.

"The blue one?"

"Yeah."

"That's Carol's." He laughs under his breath at the face she makes and the familiar scrunch of her nose, the self-satisfied air around her vanishing as quickly as a soap bubble. Guess she didn't realize she borrowed more from her than just the perfume.

"Oh yeah, Carol," she says, trying to appear unbothered as she goes over to stand by the bedside table and starts taking her earrings out. She's so casual about it, as if it's already been agreed that she'll be sleeping in the bed tonight, and the anger that's been simmering inside him all night is starting to build once more. "Where is she, anyway?"

"With Richard...for now. So you've gotta be out of here before she wakes up."

She drops her earring onto the table and recoils, her spine ramrod-straight. "Say that again?"

" I _said_ , you're leaving as soon as your midget's gone."

"So you're going to fuck me and dump me? What a gentleman," she says, reaching for her other earring, and he'll be damned if the light from the lamp at her side isn't at the perfect angle to allow him to see the outline of her nipples underneath her dress. "Why do you even bother to hide it? You really think she's so stupid that she doesn't know what's going on?" She gives him a predatory smile, lifting her wrist to her nose and inhaling the scent of her (Carol's) perfume. "How many times have you called her the wrong name when you're-"

" _Enough_. I didn't bring you back here so you could be a little bitch, so just shut up and go to bed. You can sleep on the couch." He fluffs up the pillow behind his back, pretending that he's about to enjoy a peaceful night's rest instead of stewing in his contempt for her until dawn.

She laughs, deftly untying the knot holding up the straps of her dress and letting the material pool at her feet. "Then why did you bring me back here?"

"Because you were having a breakdown and stupid me, I felt sorry for you," he says, trying not to look at her naked form as she slides under the covers next to him.

"You felt sorry for me? What a nice guy," she coos, the sarcasm dripping off of every word. She hates herself for falling apart in front of him again, even if this time it wasn't intentional. She can't figure out how to turn off the automatic impulse to run to him when she's in trouble, how to make herself forget that they don't share every part of themselves with each other the way that they used to. At least, he doesn't. He only comes looking for her when he wants to fight or fuck, and right now she's looking to provoke whatever reaction she can get. "Or did you just want a chance to insult me and treat me like a child who doesn't know what's good for her?"

"Jesus, Stevie, that shit was already making you sick. You don't need any more." He can tell she's already gotten another fix, though, just by the way she's watching him, and he doesn't know how or where but what he _does_ know is that he's so fucking sick of busting his ass for someone who's never going to love him back.

She points to the nightstand on his side of the bed, with its overflowing ashtray and rolled-up hundred and assortment of empty bottles. "And you're the picture of health! What a goddamn hypocrite."

"Maybe if it wasn't for all the shit I have to put up with, from you and everyone else, I wouldn't need it!" The blanket that was covering her had slid down her body, leaving her tits exposed and right at his eye level and God, he knew he was staring, but in that moment he was helpless. Just like he always is when it comes to her.

"I just _really_ piss you off, don't I?" she purrs.

He can't read her face as she moves in closer, can't tell what's behind those blown pupils, and that's exactly what she wants as she watches his own drunken gaze drop lower. She gives him the tiniest of nods, the corner of her mouth twitching in what he thinks is a hint of an encouraging smile. He's so confused but the alcohol tells him to go for it, take a chance, and so he reaches out...

And she slaps his hand away, her expression dripping with scorn. "Don't you fucking touch me."

She turns her back to him, about to lie down on her side. But just before her head meets the pillow, he grabs her by her hair and forces her onto her back, crushing his mouth against hers. 


	15. because the night belongs to us (1997)

**_May 1997_ **

He thought she was going to kill him.

That being said, he wasn't completely surprised when he went to check on her after Silver Springs and her first reaction was to grab him and kiss him. He'd had some of the most incredible sex of his life when they were ready to murder each other. Anyone who says makeup sex is the best kind- they've obviously never tried having a good 'ol rage fuck.

So he wasn't surprised that she was horny. But... "Wait. You're not mad at me?"

"Oh, I _was_ ," she assures him. And she doesn't look angry, at least not anymore. She's smiling, and he can tell that she's glowing even through the darkness of the backstage corner where they were hidden away. She seems proud of herself- as she should be.

He knew this show was going to be emotional, the jitters of the first night having dissipated enough for it to sink in that this was real, that the five of them were truly back together performing again. He just didn't know what song was going to do him in. Landslide was an obvious contender, as it always was. The words combined with the intimacy of the moment, only the two of them onstage with her voice and his guitar, was something that would never fail to move him. And for them to be performing it together again, the way it was meant to be- the tears had very nearly started flowing again for both of them, and it'll be burned into his memory for as long as he lives.

In the same way, he knew that Silver Springs was going to be a centerpiece of the show. He had been the one to suggest it in one of their early rehearsals when they were all kicking around ideas for the setlist, much to Stevie's surprise. She had always blamed him for it being left off of Rumours, adding it to her long list of ways she believed that he had betrayed her ('sabotaged' her, were her precise words). At the time, he had told her to stop being ridiculous, that he had spent a hell of a lot of effort on that song and he wasn't happy about it being cut either. It was the truth. He was proud of how it turned out and even more proud of how pleased Stevie had been with the final result. He _knew_ it was something special...and maybe that's why, deep down, part of him was glad to see it go. Just as he'd created something she loved, he'd also been able to take it from her. Having it as the B-side of a song she loathed was just icing on the cake.

But now it was time to do what he could to give it back to her, both as a personal gesture to prove to her that he'd changed and because the song needed to be heard. If it was something special then, it was infinitely more so now with the weight of two decades of love and loss and endings and new beginnings behind it.

He just needed to make sure he was going to survive to see it performed again.

"You _were_ angry. But you're not anymore," he says, wanting to know if he was in jeopardy of being castrated before their five minute break ended.

She shakes her head, that proud smile becoming wistful. "It's...one of those feelings that comes over you, I wasn't expecting it, but..."

"But?" He brushes the back of her hand with his fingers, testing to see how she'd react, because he knew quite well that even though she may want to have sex with him, that's no guarantee that she's going to accept any sort of affection.

Her fingers reach out and curl around his without hesitation. "It's a lot to have held onto."

He doesn't have to ask what she means. He gets it now, that it was a moment of catharsis, like every time she sings Gypsy and temporarily becomes that girl that she was before 'lightning struck twice.' He'd always envied her ability to find something therapeutic in her own songs when singing his own night after night just made him feel worse. It's different now, returning to them (and her) after so many years away, but he doesn't know that he'll ever be able to go to that place that she does and feel better for having bared his emotions to an audience.

"Can I?" he asks, holding out one arm. She nods and hugs him, her fingers trailing up and down the back of his neck as he hears someone yelling out the two-minute warning.

"I've gotta get my water and fix my lipstick," she says as she pulls away. "But just so we're clear...you _are_ coming home with me, right?"

He nods dumbly, unable to come up with a better answer and aware that Karen is giving him the evil eye over Stevie's shoulder.

"Good. I'll-"

Before Karen can drag her away, he quickly leans in and kisses her forehead.

"You, uh. God. You were amazing."

\-------------------------

As soon as they're backstage after the final bow, he takes her hand and they nod at each other without speaking, practically breaking into a run toward her dressing room. They didn't have much time, but they'd take advantage of the post-show chaos to slip away undetected for a few moments.

"Fuck, I want you so bad," he groans, burying his face in her cleavage as she sits on the edge of the dressing room couch.

"Honey, the door's not locked, someone's gonna see..." She giggles softly as she feels his tongue in between her breasts. "Get up here and kiss me."

He does as told, keeping his hands firmly on her hips to avoid temptation because he knows she's right and Karen is liable to come in at any minute. He could go back and lock the door, but that would mean letting go of her, and-

"Aunt Stevie?" he hears a sleepy little voice say.

They pull away from each other in surprise to find Jesse standing in front of them rubbing her eyes tiredly, her sparkly Minnie Mouse ears still on her head.

"Hey pumpkin...why are you back here?" Stevie asks, pulling at her top.

The little girl points to the adjoining bathroom. "I wanted a drink'a water."

"Stevie, are you- oh!" Karen walks in to see the three of them, Stevie looking flustered and Lindsey shifting around with a pained expression. "I was gonna tell you not to go in there, because Jesse was sleeping and you'd wake her up...but you ran off and I couldn't find you."

"They didn't wake me up, I was thirsty so I went to the bathroom, and I came back and they were here!" Jesse corrects her, Lindsey holding his breath until he realizes she's not going to say any more. Damn, what a kid.

Even still, Karen knows an aborted makeout when she sees one. "Well, honey, that must have been a nice surprise! Now go," she says to Lindsey, shooing him away with her hand like he's an overgrown housefly. "Stevie needs to fix her makeup and you...I mean, I'm sure you have _something_ to do. She'll see you later."

He nods at Stevie, who's now holding Jesse's hand. And maybe it's just her tired eyes adjusting to the room's lighting, but he swears to God Jesse winks at him.

He makes a mental note to grab a bunch of cookies from the craft services table for her and heads toward his own dressing room.

\-------------------------

Stevie remembers once, when she was in her early 20s, looking through her parents' wedding album with her mother.

"You're so cute, Momma, you looked so happy," she said, pointing to a photo of her mom getting ready to toss her bouquet.

"Oh, right then I was just glad it was almost over. What?" she asked when her daughter gave her a confused look. "Don't get me wrong, it was a lovely reception, but all I wanted was to go back to the hotel."

"Mom!"

"We'd been dating for a year, honey. There's a reason that people in our day had short engagements."

"Okay, I don't want to hear anymore. Please," she had nearly begged. If her mother was trying to make a point to her about saving yourself for marriage, she had failed. For one, she was a few years too late. For another thing, the idea of wanting to hurry through the reception didn't appeal to her. She wanted the whole incredibly romantic wedding night, of course, but if she was going to have the biggest party of her life where she was the center of everyone's attention, she was going to be sure to enjoy every second of it.

(She doesn't remember most of her actual wedding reception, just like she doesn't remember hardly any of the actual ceremony. But even though she knows she wasn't enjoying it, she also didn't want it to end. Once the wedding was over, that meant the marriage had begun, that it was time to go home and be a wife to someone she didn't love and who didn't love her. 'Sometimes...love grows with time,' her mother had told her in a valiant attempt to cheer her up as they hugged goodbye that night. It was the nicest thing her mom had said about her marriage ever since she made the big announcement. Stevie had wished she'd just shut up and be happy that her daughter had actually made it to the altar with a man she'd never slept with, for fuck's sake.)

But tonight she finally understood where her mother was coming from. She was having a great time at the afterparty, enjoying being surrounded by the people she loved and catching up with old friends now that the two nights of taping were behind them. Everyone seemed to have been blown away by their performance and although she had never been one to shy away from being complimented, it felt especially good to hear it tonight, considering how she knew some of these people had written her (and them) off years ago. Not that she could really blame them, but there was something very satisfying about proving them wrong.

So she was having fun, she felt good- and she was _so_ ready to get the hell out of there. This must be how Lindsey feels at every single one of these parties that he's ever attended, just waiting for the first socially acceptable opportunity to duck out, she thought as she looked around to try catching a glimpse of him. They'd been separated ever since they'd been interrupted by Karen and Jesse, but she had been watching him as much as she could and more often than not he was looking right back at her, the two of them exchanging little private smiles from across the room.

She was particularly gratified to _not_ see Lindsey's little girlfriend. Guess she decided not to stick around. Oh, there were plenty of girls trying to get his attention, girls in miniskirts who she assumed were either daughters or trophy wives of Warner execs, but the only younger woman she saw holding his interest was six years old and wearing sparkly mouse ears.

The crowd finally started to thin out. John and Julie had already taken off under the pretense of having to relieve the nanny ( "I thought she lived with you?" she asked John, only to be met with a shrug and "You know, labor laws."). Mick was holding court near the bar, leaning back in his chair as he entertained a small crowd with a story from the late '70s that she's pretty sure is 90 percent exaggeration, as most of his stories are.

And Lindsey? As she made her way over to him, hoping to not-so-gently nudge him toward the door, she was temporarily distracted by Karen. "You ready to go?"

"Am- oh! I didn't get the chance to tell you, Lindsey's taking me home."

It must've been obvious what their plans were, because Karen makes a surprised 'really?' face, followed by barely suppressed laughter. "You mean you're finally going to-"

" _Karen!_ " she hisses.

"Thank God, that's all I have to say. It's about time. Maybe now you'll stop-"

" _Enough_. Just be there in the morning to pick up the dogs, okay?" she says. "Lindsey wants to leave by eight."

She snorts. "Got it. So I should come drag you out of bed around...what, 10? Kidding, I'm kidding, I'll be there at 7:30. Please just be decent."

"G'night, Karen," Lindsey calls out as she walks away, interrupting his conversation with some guy from the label. She doesn't know his name, but he looks familiar and she suspects that she might have slept with him once or twice when she was too wasted to really remember, because there's no way she would've had sex with him sober. "Stevie, have you ever met Mort here?"

_I screwed a guy named *Mort*? Oh god._ But fortunately, Mort doesn't seem to remember her either, so she must not have been the only one who'd been fucked up during their encounter (encounters?).

Poor Mort had committed the grave error of asking Lindsey a relatively straightforward question about the equipment he had in his studio at home, a topic that she knew he could talk about all night if she didn't put a stop to it. "Linds."

"But what's interesting about those is, you can't- uh. Stevie," he says before giving Mort an apologetic look. "I'd completely forgotten, I told Stevie to remind me that I have...a thing. A thing I have to go to. So maybe we can talk more some other time?"

Stevie tried not to grimace at his awkward explanation. He had always been such a terrible liar, especially when put on the spot, but Mort just seemed grateful for an excuse to cut the conversation short.

The drive home was quiet, but in a comfortable way. They held hands over the center console and made out at stoplights, getting honked at more than once for not paying attention when the light changed.

"Sorry," he muttered as a guy flipped him the bird while cutting him off from behind, but it wasn't enough to completely erase the smile from his face. It was so good to see him happy again. She thinks about the last time they slept together ten years ago, on the day she had finished recording her vocals for Tango, how he grabbed her arm and pulled her into his bedroom when she was trying to leave. Like so much else, she doesn't remember all of it. But she knows it was uncomfortable, physically and emotionally, in a way that it never had been with him before no matter how angry they were. She didn't come, and she doesn't remember if he did or not, just that he didn't say a word the whole time until he abruptly stopped what he was doing and then started shouting at her. She can't remember what he said, or even if she said anything back; her only recollection is of lying there and thinking _I don't know who you are anymore._

But she knows this Lindsey. She knows him and she loves him and she trusts him, and every day she's able to let him in a little more as the past becomes just that, the past. Like she told her mother on the phone yesterday, _I think we might actually make it work this time._

\-------------------------

As soon as they get inside her condo, she immediately kneels down and lets the dogs climb all over her, cooing to them as they lick her face with their slobbery tongues. They'd been going crazy as she fumbled with the key, distracted by Lindsey's unwillingness to stop kissing her long enough to let her unlock the door. "Ohh, Mommy missed you too! Linds, will you do me a favor?"

"Yup," he says quickly, in the mood to agree to just about anything.

"Will you take them outside and then get them set up for the night in the office? They already have their doggy bed and a bowl in there- just make sure they have water." She raises an eyebrow at his confused expression. "I figured you'd rather not have them sleeping with us tonight?"

"No, no, I'm...that's good. But what are you doing?"

She stands up and presses her lips against his cheek, patting his arm. "I'm gonna shower and get changed, and then I'll meet you upstairs."

"But- you take _forever_ in there, " he complains, his voice tinged with a whine.

"I'll be quick, I promise." The tip of her tongue flicks over his earlobe as she purrs into his ear. "Trust me."

"Okay...but you really don't need to get changed, it's just a waste of time..." She swats at his ass and giggles, shaking her head as she goes up the stairs. He hadn't been kidding, because he really does intend on getting her undressed as soon as possible, but he understands that it's more for her than it is for him and if that's what makes her feel comfortable, then he's all right with it.

He lets the dogs out to do their thing and doesn't bother to clean up after them- it's dark, and Karen can deal with that tomorrow- and then lures them into the office with their little doggy cookies. They sit down together to enjoy their treat and don't seem bothered by their impending banishment, but Lindsey's not convinced.

"Uh, so...tonight's kinda really important for your mom and me, so if you guys could just be cool and behave, I'd appreciate that," he says, feeling only slightly embarrassed that he's trying to negotiate with dogs.

When he's confident that they understand the gravity of the situation, he shuts the door and makes his way upstairs to the bedroom. He can hear the water running in the bathroom and he's so tempted to go in and join her, but he decides that might be a little too forward for tonight, so he busies himself by lighting a few of the candles placed around the room and he tries not to think about what's happening on the other side of that door. His dick isn't letting him forget that easily, though, and he finds himself wondering if he has time to, er, take care of business before she gets out of the shower. After all, he doesn't want this to be over too quickly. But he also knows that he doesn't have the short turnaround time he did when he was 20, where all she had to do was look at him and he was ready to go again, so he probably shouldn't risk it.

God, he just wants this to be perfect for her. If he feels like he's been through a dry spell and it's only been three months since the last time he got laid, then he can't imagine how she must feel. Two and a half years is a long time- but he suspects it's been a lot longer than that since she was with someone who really cared about her and about making her feel good. She told him about 'a few' guys that she had short-lived flings with after she got out of rehab, guys she met at her 12-step group, and even though she claims that she was the one who pursued them and there were no hard feelings when it was over, he still had to grit his teeth to hide how angry he was just thinking about it. No matter who instigated it, these fuckers had to see that she was lonely and vulnerable and didn't hesitate to take advantage of that.

He should've been there. But he wasn't. He thought he was doing the right thing. But sometimes he's not so sure.

He hears the water shut off and instantly his thoughts are elsewhere. He decides to turn out the light closest to her bed and keep the lamp in the corner of the room switched on, hoping she'll find this an acceptable compromise. He gets the feeling that if it was up to her, it'd be just the candles or maybe not even that, but he can't help it- he needs to see her.

Satisfied with the lighting, he sits down on the edge of the bed and notes approvingly that she's already pulled the comforter back and pushed her million pillows against the wall. A stuffed bunny sits atop the headboard, overseeing the mattress below it, and he allows it to stay on its perch but turns it around for some privacy.

He can make out the sound of her humming to herself inside the bathroom and he smiles. "You okay in there?"

"Yup, just getting dressed."

"Y'know, you really don't have to do that," he reminds her.

She laughs. "Does that mean _you're_ sitting out there completely naked?"

"Well...no. But I could be!" Should he be? He didn't want to seem like he was trying to rush things. But if this was just a normal night and they were getting ready for bed, he'd probably be in his underwear by now whether or not he thought they were going to have sex.

_Chill out, you're overthinking this,_ he chides himself, deciding to compromise by shucking his jeans and socks before he sits back down on the bed.

The bathroom door opens barely enough for Stevie's head to peek out from behind it. "Why are you just sitting there like that?"

"Uh, I don't know. What am I supposed to be doing?"

"I don't know either, but you look like you're expecting me to make this grand entrance and it's making me nervous," she says, as if she hadn't been perfecting the art of the grand entrance ever since she was old enough to walk.

"So what, you want me to close my eyes or something?"

"Actually, yes! That's a very good idea." He had been joking, but she clearly wasn't, and when he realizes that she's not budging he gives in and closes his eyes.

She giggles, admiring the mood lighting he had created before climbing right up onto his lap and kissing him fiercely. "Oh...shit, I forgot...mmm, you can open your eyes now..."

"Fuck," he growls, pleased but not surprised at her ability to go from shyly hiding behind a door to pushing him down on the bed and grinding against his rapidly growing hard-on in a matter of seconds. The girl knew what she wanted, and he was just lucky that she wanted _him_.

She keeps kissing him, hands roaming under his shirt, and it's not the soft, slow kisses they were trading in the car or the playful, teasing kisses they shared at her front door. She kisses him with purpose like she did backstage, biting on his bottom lip and sucking on his tongue as her fingernails scrape over his chest.

He reaches down and palms her ass, pulling her closer, but he's frustrated by the thin layer of lace between his hand and her skin. "Steph, please...I just need to see you. You're killing me here."

"You first," she says as she nods her agreement. He strips off his shirt almost before she can sit up, and then he's pulling down his boxers as she lies down atop the sheets. She makes no attempt to hide the way she's staring at his dick, squeezing her thighs together almost by instinct, and he forgets that he should probably be embarrassed that he's this hard after they've only been kissing for a few minutes. He needs her to see what she does to him, needs to make sure she knows how much he wants her.

She lets him slip her silky tank top off first, openly admiring her tits as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of her matching shorts. He's already seen them- spent a lot of time this week getting up close and personal with them, as a matter of fact, but he's certainly not tired of them yet. Especially not now when she's finally, gloriously naked in front of him, all pale skin and soft curves and his for the taking. "God, I...wow."

"I think that's what you said the first time we did this," she says, and she's probably right. He doesn't say anything in return, just licks his lips and absent-mindedly strokes his aching cock, and she squirms in a mixture of desire and discomfort. "Linds..."

"You're beautiful. Just like you've always been," he reassures her. There was never any doubt in his mind that she would be, just like he had never been bothered by her not being the same size that she was a decade ago. He'd seen her when she weighed a couple dozen more pounds than she does now and he was still attracted to her even then, even when he felt guilty for thinking about her that way when she was clearly so unwell.

Besides, she certainly wasn't the only one who'd put on some extra weight since the 80s...but it's different for her, and he knows it. So he settles himself on top of her, brushing back her hair to whisper it into her ear again. "You're beautiful."

He kisses her neck without caring if he'll leave a mark- no, screw that, he _wants_ to mark her as his own now that they don't have TV cameras or the prying eyes of their bandmates to contend with. His hand trails down her body, stopping to squeeze her breast in his palm, and then nestles between her thighs. He lightly strokes her outer lips with his first two fingers, grinning as she shivers at his touch.

"Baby," she sighs as he bites at the spot where her neck meets her shoulders. She runs her hand over his curls, holding his head in place when he takes her nipple in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it, his finger swiping at her wetness as she pleads with him to stop teasing her. "Touch me. C'mon..."

"I am touching you," he mumbles against her skin, kissing downward until he's nuzzling her belly button.

"Mmm. Get back up here, you." She loves his mouth on her; she _really_ does. But she knows that once he's down there, he won't be coming back up for a while, and she can't wait around for him to pull a muscle in his tongue before he finally gets to fucking her. "Linds," she says when he doesn't listen, giving his hair a tug. "I'm serious!"

"Oooh, you're serious," he teases, pinching the inside of her thigh. He moves so that her legs can fall open wider, kissing her again and finally slipping one finger inside her. _Fuck._ She reaches out and starts moving her hand up and down on his cock, the two of them unconsciously falling into the same rhythm. "God, you're so wet. Is that what you wanted? Me fucking you with my fingers?"

He draws circles around her clit with his thumb, dropping kisses so light that she can barely feel them all over her breasts. "Yeah...ohh. Don't stop."

"Good girl." He starts rubbing her clit as he carefully pumps his fingers in and out of her, biting his lip in concentration. She's dripping wet but she's so tight, tighter than he expected, and he wonders if she's more nervous than she's letting on. Not willing to let this be anything but perfect for her, he decides to take a detour to relax her a little.

He kisses just below her belly button, right where he knows she's ticklish, and her eyes fly open. "Linds!"

"I just want a taste." He rests the bridge of his nose against her pubic bone and slowly breathes in and out, leaving her gasping at the feeling of warm puffs of air on her slick pussy. She smells the same as he remembers, just like he never forgot the way she tastes or the startled cry she makes at that first long, slow lick. "Fuck, you taste good."

He takes her hand in his and puts it in between her legs, and she spreads herself open for him while he goes back to fingering her. He sucks her clit methodically, alternating between light kisses and wrapping his lips around the hard little bud as her legs start trembling on either side of his head. "Baby, I'm gonna... "

When he murmurs his encouragement, the vibrations are enough to send her over the edge, and _God_ he never wants to go without this, without hearingtouchingtasting her, again. Loving her. He's loved her for the entire decade that they spent mostly separated, but now she's here and she's real and all of the dreams he's had over the years seem to be coming to fruition, and he is going to do his damndest to make sure she'll never regret letting him back in.

He licks her through it until she finally stops shaking and nudges his head away, then kisses his way back up her body, spreading the moisture on his fingers onto his cock. She's watching him hungrily, all hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, and there's no mistaking what she wants. But he also sees the same smile that she gave him when he was an absolutely petrified 19 year old virgin, dying of embarrassment when she heard him accidentally mumble 'don't screw it up' aloud to himself. _You're not going to screw this up_ , she promised him, and although he's gotten a lot more confident in his technique over the years, he could still do with a little of that encouragement right now.

"You ready for me?" he asks, taunting her by rubbing the head of his dick over her opening. He ignores her emphatic _yesyesyes_ and keeps teasing her, nudging at her clit. "Ready for me to fuck your sweet little pussy?"

" _Lindsey_ ," she whines in a way that leaves him physically aching as he finally gives in and lets her guide him inside her.

He's watching her face carefully and as soon as he sees the smallest hint of a grimace, he stops moving and kisses the tip of her nose. "Too much?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she jokes, rubbing his bicep as she adjusts to the unfamiliar stretch. "Just...go slow. Until I tell you not to."

He obeys, stopping once he's all the way inside her. His mouth drops to the bruise he created earlier at the base of her neck, soothing it with his tongue, and then he pushes himself up on his arms to get a better view of her face. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"I do," she says, reaching for his shoulders and pulling him back down. She wants to get as close to him as possible, wants the feeling of skin-to-skin contact and his weight on top of her. "I love you too. Now fuck me, I'm ready."

He groans in her ear as he starts moving slowly, pulling out a little further with each stroke. "You feel...Christ, you feel amazing. It's unbelievable."

"Mmm, that's all you." She wraps her arms around him, her hands running over his chest, then his back, then down to his ass- everywhere she could reach. They'd done plenty of what Karen called 'pawing' this spring, coming up with every excuse they could to touch each other, but this is what she'd been craving since that first night that she saw him again. Not just the sex, but having him surround her like this, like if they got any closer he would be seeping into her pores.

He keeps murmuring to her while they move together, _so hot, fuck, you're so tight,_ and he almost bites down on her tongue as they kiss when she rolls her hips and clenches her inner muscles around him. "Ohh. Do that again."

"Fuck me harder and I will," she says, eyes wicked. Never one to back down from a challenge, he grabs a pillow and puts it under her ass before he gets up on his knees and thrusts again, bracing himself with his hands on either side of her. He sucks on one of her nipples, tugging at it with his teeth until she's pulling on his hair. "Oh yes...God. Yessss."

"Does it feel good when I fuck you like that?" he asks, as if her writhing around beneath him and clawing at his shoulders wasn't enough of an answer. He pins her wrists over her head, licking and biting the soft skin on the inside of her upper arms. It's a move that used to drive her crazy back in the day and he's proud to see that it still has the same effect.

"Lindsey," she pleads, and he knows by the way she says his name that she's close. "Make me come, baby, I need it. Need you."

_Need you. Need you._ He grunts again and lets go of her hands, using his own to grip onto the top of the headboard for better leverage. "Touch yourself for me."

She rubs her clit with two fingers as he drives into her and he's overwhelmed, wanting to watch her reaction as she comes closer to orgasm but struggling to take his eyes off of the way her tits are bouncing with every movement. "Steph...angel, I can't..."

"Do it, honey, I'm right th- ahh!" she cries out, the sound of her moans and the feeling of her being so impossibly tight around him triggering his own release. His hips pump forward again and again until he's finally spent and he collapses on top of her, both of them able to feel the other's heart thumping wildly.

He starts to pull out but she stops him with a hand on his chest. "Stay? Just for a little while."

"Anything you want," he assures her, because...what else could he possibly say to the very sated, very content woman in his arms? There's only one thing left to say. "Stevie?"

"Yeah?"

"Still wanna kill me now?"


	16. maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems (1979)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{Warning! This chapter is intense. Absolutely NSFW. While the sex is technically consensual, it's a situation where no one is really in the right state of mind to be consenting. Trigger warnings for rough sex, consensual non-consent, discussion of abortion, and mild non-consensual, non-sexual violence. If you want to skip the sex, you can scroll down to "minutes later" and start reading from there. Any questions, comments, concerns- let me know. If you don't have an account here, I'm also on twitter at lucythespencer and I always keep my DMs open.}}

**_November 1979_ **

_He can't read her face as she moves in closer, can't tell what's behind those blown pupils, and that's exactly what she wants as she watches his own drunken gaze drop lower. She gives him the tiniest of nods, the corner of her mouth twitching in what he thinks is a hint of an encouraging smile. He's so confused but the alcohol tells him to go for it, take a chance, and so he reaches out..._

_And she slaps his hand away, her expression dripping with scorn. "Don't you fucking touch me."_

_She turns her back to him, about to lie down on her side. But just before her head meets the pillow, he grabs her by her hair and forces her onto her back, crushing his mouth against hers._

"What the hell do you- get off of me!"

Stevie struggles to get away from him, turning her head so that he couldn't kiss her, but Lindsey was anticipating this and already had her bracketed by his long limbs. He bites at her exposed neck, ignoring her protests. "Just shut the fuck up."

"Let me go, you asshole." She kicks at his shins with her feet and pushes at his waist with her hands, unable to lift her arms up any higher. "If you think I'm gonna-"

She manages to get her arms freed, but before she can use them he's got her wrists pinned over her head. "Who said you had a choice?"

"Lind-"

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" he asks, tightening his hold on her wrists as his voice gets louder. "All week you've been leading me on, putting me off because your goddamn producer's always hanging around, and then you tell me 'I'll come find you tonight,' but you never do because you're too busy snorting lines and sucking someone else's dick until _I_ end up being the one who has to take you home so you don't end up ODing on God knows what with God knows who. So I don't really care what you want, because _you fucking owe me_. "

"Are you done yet?" she shouts back at him, having remained absolutely impassive through his tirade.

He growls and flips her over onto her stomach, his voice dropping to barely more than a whisper as he rests his head next to hers. "What's the word?"

She stays silent and refuses to look over at him through the curtain of her hair. She's going to test him, to see how long she can make him wait, and a sick thrill passes through her at the thought of him deciding he's just not going to wait any longer. They've played this game before and every time it feels more dangerous. Sometimes she wonders if one day they'll get to a point where it's not a game at all.

"Stevie. I'm not going to ask you again. Say it or I'm leaving," he says, his tone emotionless even though she knows he's got to be positively seething inside.

She holds her breath, hyper-focused on detecting even the barest twitch of a muscle from him. Even as she's calling his bluff, certain that he's not going anywhere, she doesn't dare take the chance that he might actually follow through. She's the one in control here and the alternative is simply unacceptable.

"Ginny," she says so quietly that she repeats herself, unsure if he could hear her. "The word's Ginny."

As soon as he lets go of her shoulder, she wriggles around underneath him until they're face to face once again. "Are you done being a little bitch?"

"Fuck you," she spits back.

"Guess not." He grabs one of her breasts roughly and squeezes it, feeling her hardened nipple beneath his palm and below that, the thump of her heartbeat. It reminds him of being back at the club on that disgusting floor with her, dragging her ass out of there just so she could get high again and crawl naked into his bed. She was taunting him, they both knew it, and he fucking hates the thought that he's giving her what she wants. But it makes it easier when she's fighting him, pushing him back as he sheds his boxers. He reaches for her wrist and puts her hand on his cock. "C'mon. Get me ready."

"No. You're disgusting," she says, resisting his attempt to get him to touch her. "And you're so drunk...there's no way you can get it up."

He's drunk, all right, but he's plenty able to respond as he entwines his fingers with hers and starts moving their joined hands up and down his length. She grips the base with a bit more force than necessary and he pinches the sensitive skin just below her nipple in retaliation. "Do that again and I'll make you choke on it."

"And I'll bite, you know I will."

"Like I would really let you get your mouth anywhere near my dick. Who knows how many others you've been sucking," he scoffs, groping her tits again as he hardens in her hand.

She winces at his touch but says nothing. "Maybe you should be asking Carol the same question. You sure about where her mouth's been?"

"Just cause you're a little slut doesn't mean everyone else is."

She laughs, one loud singular cackle, and the hand on his cock twists a little too sharply. "Well, there's gotta be someone getting her off, and I don't think it's you-"

" _Enough_." He takes a handful of the curls that are falling in her face and uses his grip on her hair to pull her head back, ignoring her when she hisses in pain. He has a vision of wrapping his hand around the base of her throat- not enough to choke her, just enough to make her think he might- but he knows how weird she is about having her neck touched, all that beheaded in a past life shit, and he's not trying to actually scare her.

So he kisses her instead and it's brutal, all teeth and tongue, and she gives back as good as she gets. She starts struggling underneath him again and he puts up enough of a fight to egg her on some more, letting her get free just to pin her back down. She's surprisingly scrappy, especially when she's high, but he can easily overpower her when he wants to. He doesn't want to, though, not just yet. They shove at each other, scratching and biting and bruising, and she says _nonono stop it, you bastard_ but he knows she doesn't mean it, just like she knows he's purposely holding back to prolong the 'fight'.

He fucking hates her. That part is real. The anger at having to see her every day but never really _having_ her, at giving her everything and getting nothing but worthless promises in return while she takes and takes and takes...he meant what he said. She owes him. And sometimes it frightens the hell out of him, the thoughts that come to his mind in the middle of the night. He wouldn't ever do anything to deliberately harm her. He's not even sure if he'd really be capable of it. Would he? He doesn't want to find out. So he does this instead.

"You're really getting off on this, huh?" she sneers as she feels him pressing insistently against her stomach. She had been serious when she said she thought he was too wasted to get it up, but she's not disappointed at being proved wrong. "You must not be able to do it for Carol at _all_ if-"

That gets the reaction she wanted, with him pushing her face-down onto the mattress and climbing on top of her. "Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth."

"Or what?" She squeals as he pushes into her with one sharp thrust, her ass only slightly raised so she can still feel the weight of his body against her back. "You piece of shit, you-"

He puts his hand on the back of her head and presses down until her words are swallowed up by the pillow. "Knock it off, you were the one undressing in front of me, getting in bed with me- you knew you were gonna get fucked."

"Nuhhh," she moans, thrashing around as best she can when he's still got her pinned underneath him. He tightens his hold on her in response and she bites down on her swollen bottom lip to swallow a groan of pleasure. The game only works if she can keep up the fiction that she doesn't want it, despite both of them knowing it's all an act. It's a rush of power no less dizzying than the lightheaded feeling she gets from her current position, her head tucked downward and her ass in the air, at once vulnerable but completely in command. She knew she was close to breaking him when she walked into the room doused in Carol's (her) perfume, that he was drunk and angry and she only needed to tease him a little before he'd snap and she'd be able to retake the control she'd lost back at the club.

"How are- you're so fucking wet, is this why you were such a bitch all night? Sucking cock but no one's gonna get you off in return?" When she doesn't respond, he tugs at her hair again to force her head upward. "You thought I'd give you what you wanted?"

"Like you even could." He holds onto her hips tighter, spreading her legs further apart as he keeps pounding into her, and she's so glad he can't see the smug grin on her face. As mad at him as she was, and still is, she relishes everything about this sick little game they've created. It's the ultimate mindfuck- he thinks he's taking charge, when actually she's the one in control.

Also, it feels really fucking good. So good that she can't keep herself from crying out, _ohgodyesmore_ , and he stops what he's doing just as abruptly as he started.

"So you do like it, you lying little whore." She swears under her breath at her slip-up and shakes her head, not daring to move or say another word. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised. Probably been a while since you were with a real man."

"Jesus, you're not _that_ good," she retorts, and he answers with a swift slap across her backside. _Oh god_.

She makes a show of trying to twist around and fight him off, but he grabs her arm and holds it behind her back. "Hands on your ankles or I'll tie you up and leave you like that."

It's an interesting proposition, one she's tempted to test out, but instead she relents and does as told. She's rewarded with a series of blows raining down on her ass and the backs of her thighs, sometimes several in rapid succession and then just a single hit followed by an agonizing pause.

She pleads with him, _stop nonono please you son of a bitch_ , and he tries to silence her with a hand clapped over her mouth until she bites down on the fleshy part of his palm. That earns her a harder slap, but she can tell he's still holding back and it just makes her angrier. They accidentally discovered her fondness for this particular activity almost a dozen years ago, playing around one day when they were young and high and still so in love. She kept urging him on, the pot numbing her senses and their inhibitions, and he was horrified when they woke up the next morning and saw the red marks on her pale backside. She shrugged it off, the slight lingering soreness feeling like a small price to pay, but he treated her like a princess for the entire day and she was happy to let him.

Now he's more restrained, has been ever since they broke up, and it infuriates her. She's not going to say _hit me harder, goddamnit_ , but she's not going to keep yelling and crying and swearing at him when he knows damn well that she can take much more. "Are you just slapping me around because your dick went limp, or-"

She's on her back before she can finish her insult. He's shaking her shoulders, his thumb pressing against an indentation in her skin where his teeth had been just minutes earlier, and he's trying his best to ignore the vision he's seeing behind his eyes of him back handing her across the cheek. That was their agreed upon mutual limit, that faces were out of bounds, but it doesn't stop him from wondering. What would it feel like and, more importantly, how would she react? Part of him wants to push that boundary but he knows he's too chickenshit to ever go through with it. He can't handle the thought of hurting her, not like this, not when she's deliberately made herself this vulnerable.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

Maybe what he's really afraid of is that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop.

He holds her wrists down as he starts fucking her again, forcing his tongue into her mouth as she yanks on the curls at the crown of his head. She's relieved to be back in control now, back to letting herself dive headlong into believing that she's driven him to the point of madness where he can't stop himself from taking what he wants from her.

She throws her head back and groans as he touches her clit, her frenzied cries spurring him on as his thrusts become more urgent, and this is what he's been chasing all night. They've fought each other tooth and nail and fiery tongues, but in the end she willingly submits to him because she _can't not_.

The angry back and forth ceases now, just like it always does, leaving in its wake nothing more than grunts and moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin. Later on they'll tell themselves that it's nothing; that it's just two people using each other to get off. Neither will admit that if they were really 'just using each other,' it'd be so much simpler than this.

**_minutes later_ **

"Lindsey!"

She shouts his name without warning, startling him out of his state of postcoital suspended animation. Her little fists are beating on his chest and he can tell from the urgency in her voice that she's not playing around anymore. He rolls off of her, holding his hands up in surrender. "Are-"

"I told you to pull out, dammnit!"

"What the- you did not! " He lets his hand drop onto his forehead, rubbing his temples as if to reactivate his memory. Had she...? No. There was no way he could've missed that. She hadn't said one single word to him, not after he stopped slapping her ass. Right?

She jumps up and waddles toward the bathroom as quickly as she can with her thighs clenched together, slamming the door behind her just in case he didn't know she was unhappy. "Yes. I did. I swear to God, a second ago I told you I forgot my fucking pills again so you better not- ugh! Why can't you ever listen?"

"You didn't say _shit,_ so don't blame it on me!" He hears her feet pounding on the bathroom's tile floor and he wonders if she's actually jumping up and down. "Maybe if you weren't so fucking flighty and actually took your goddamn pills the way you were supposed to, you wouldn't keep having this problem. "

"Sure, it's all my fault, Mr. I-wouldn't-know-what-to-do-with-a-condom-if-it-hit-me-in-the-face! God, you're so sexist," she yells back, making all kinds of aggravated noises that he would have found funny under different circumstances. But as it stands now, he's not laughing. He pulls on his boxers and sits back down on the bed with his legs stretched out in front of him, rubbing his eyes. Once again, here he is catering to her, and what does he get in return? If she had just gone to sleep in the other room like he told her to, none of this would've happened, but _she_ insisted on getting in bed with him. And he could've just fucked her and kicked her to the couch, but he didn't. He made sure she came- twice. Christ, he's a sucker. He should've left her back at the club and let whoever found her deal with her bullshit.

She comes out of the bathroom wearing the hotel robe, arms crossed around her and clutching the sash like she's ready for battle. "If I hadn't just finished my period, I would be killing you right now. Hell, I still might!"

"I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this," he says, not completely sure what her having just finished her period actually means, but he assumes it's a good thing, "cause if it was really important, you would've told me before I-"

"I _did_!"

"Okay, but then you waited to say anything else until after I'd gotten you off, and _then_ you decide to get mad at me. You're a real fucking piece of work, you know that?" She starts mumbling something as she rummages through the minibar, growling under her breath when she doesn't find anything stronger than orange juice. "Besides, I'm probably- what, the third guy to blow his load in your cunt today? Jesus. You wouldn't even know who to blame if you _did_ get knocked up."

"And you would like that, wouldn't you?" She rounds on him, trembling finger pointing at his face.

"Hell no, I don't-"

"You did it on purpose!" she shouts, on all fours on the bed like some sort of pouncing jungle cat. Her pupils are huge and dark and it only adds to the paranoid coke addict lion act. "I know you did!"

" Did _what_? "

"You want me to get pregnant so that I'll come running back to you. If I'm having your baby, in your delusional fucked up head, that means you own me. You want to be in control of my life so badly, and that's the only way you can think of to get it."

He starts laughing, standing up to get some distance from her, and she has a vision of pushing him right through that picture window behind him. " _You_ are the one who's out of their mind if you seriously believe I'd want a baby with you. Look at yourself, you're a goddamn mess!"

"And you figure you have the right to judge me?" She sits back on her heels and puts her hands on her hips, trying not to think about those faraway afternoons when they used to fantasize about their future with their kids and dogs and that giant house overlooking the surf. It was kid stuff; two people who weren't old enough to know any better.

"Who was the one almost OD'ing at the club tonight? That was all you. And I was the one saving your ass, just like always. How the hell do you think you'd manage with a kid?" He knows he's striking at dangerous territory and he just. doesn't. care. Not when he can already feel tomorrow's hangover creeping up on him, when he knows he's going to have a second woman freaking out on him in the morning as soon as Carol wakes up and starts asking where he's been and who he's been with. "There's no way you could! Fucking junkie whore."

"You're no better than me, you son of a bitch!" She rises up on her knees, ignoring how dizzy even this small movement makes her feel. "Lying about me sucking dick in a bathroom, trying to make me think I'm crazy when I know what I said, you were just ignoring me because you're too busy thinking about how you could have me under your thumb for life if I was pregnant!"

He steps closer so that they're almost nose to nose, angry breaths heating one another's faces. "How many times do I have to- you are the _last_ person on earth I'd want a kid with. Dead fucking _last_. "

"Now you're lying again! What happened to all the things you told me before, huh? When I -"

"Why the hell does it matter now? You made your choice, you did what you wanted to anyway," he says, face turning crimson. This wasn't something they were supposed to talk about on a night like tonight. Or ever, really, but especially not tonight when so much had already been laid bare. "It was over two years ago. Things fucking change."

"Because I said no to you? Is that what changed? Yeah, I'd be a great mother as long as I did everything you told me to. Otherwise I'm a junkie whore. You are unbelievable, you know that?"

"I was _trying_ to help you!" He reaches for the first thing he sees, which happens to be her purse, and sends it flying across the room as pill bottles and lipsticks and folded up papers spill onto the hotel carpet. "You were the one who came to me, okay, what was I gonna do?"

He thought he was doing the right thing when she showed up unannounced in the small hours of a stormy morning, sobbing uncontrollably and having a full blown panic attack on the floor of the foyer in his (formerly their) house. _I'm pregnant_ , she finally said, sitting cross-legged on the couch wearing his clothes and a towel wrapped around her damp hair like it was one of her many scarves. Don didn't believe it was his and accused her of cheating, telling her to 'go take care of it' and hanging up on her with instructions to never call him back. Now she was stuck. She didn't want to get rid of her (not their) baby, but she knew that she couldn't be a single mother, logistically or emotionally. She wanted desperately to keep it, she explained, but it was more important to her that any children she had grew up the way she did, with two married parents who were committed to each other. What would she tell her child when they wondered where their father was? When they asked if he loved them, what would she say?

She fell asleep mid-sentence and he carried her upstairs to the bed they used to share. She clung to him all night, their bodies pressed together, and he tried not to think about the tiny little life sandwiched between them.

He woke up hours later to the sound of the toilet flushing, then the sink turning on, then the soft noises of someone trying to cry without being overheard. He knocked gently on the door and to his surprise, she let him in. They held each other silently as minute after minute ticked by on the clock on the wall, and then he did the only thing he knew how to do, lifting her up so she was sitting on the counter and dropping to his knees.

After two days of never leaving her side, of him lying to his new girlfriend about having an emergency back home, he took a chance and asked Stevie to marry him. Again. They could be a family, the way they always wanted. _I don't care whose kid it is. It's a part of you and I'll love it like my own, you know I would._ It would be hard, but they would make it work. If she decided to quit the band after the baby came, he would be right there with her. She could take some time off and then make a solo album on her own schedule and he would help her. Anything she wanted, he would make it happen. Nothing mattered to him as long as she was happy.

The next morning she was gone, with a handwritten note tucked between the strings of his guitar as the only sign that she'd ever been there at all. _I'm sorry, I can't._ Less than 48 hours later he got a call from Robin. _She hasn't stopped crying since we left the clinic and she won't talk to me, she just wants you. I hate having to ask but please, she's gonna make herself sick and-_ He assured her that he'd be right there, told Carol his mom was back in the hospital, and took off for Stevie's house.

He spent the night there, and the next two nights after that. She never told him why she made the decision she did and he never asked. It didn't matter now, he supposed, and asking would only upset her more.

On the third night she woke him up, shaking his shoulder with an urgency that startled him. _Lindsey_ , she whispered as she hovered over him, teardrops raining down onto his face. _I love you, I wish I could take it all back...wish things could be the way they used to be._

Again he promised her the world. All he really wanted was to be with her, baby or no baby. They had time, and they could try for one in a few years when she was ready for a break from recording and touring. Nothing mattered to him as long as they were together because she was the one thing in life that made him truly happy.

And again he woke up alone to find another note left behind, this one explaining that Don had called wanting to work things out, so she was flying off to wherever he was for a few days. _Thanks_ , it said at the end, little hearts surrounding the word like a sick joke.

That night he asked Carol to live with him. She said yes. He had her stuff moved in even before Stevie got back to LA.

"So what was it, huh? What was I supposed to do?"

Stevie ignores his question and goes straight for the little baggie that landed behind the TV, making sure its contents were undisturbed and stuffing it back into her purse before deigning to reply. "Oh, I'm _sorry_ , I know how much you would've loved to hold that over my head for the rest of my life!"

"What the fuck are you even talking about?"

"You think you would've ever let me forget how selfless you were, how you rescued poor little Stevie and her baby because you're such a nice guy?"

"You're mad at me for- what did you want me to do, tell you you're shit outta luck and kick you to the curb?" he asks, half-serious because with her he just never fucking knows. "Isn't that what already had happened, wasn't that the whole reason you came to me to begin with, because Henley dumped your ass? But I guess you got back together with him, so...make it make sense, Stevie. Make it make sense! Because I don't get it!"

She starts shaking again, stepping backward to brace herself against the wall. The floor underneath her felt like rolling ocean waves, washing over her and crashing inside her head, her mind reeling from too many highs and lows in the span of one night. "All you wanted was to trap me. I knew what you were thinking! That if I was your wife, if we had a child together, there's no way I would leave you again. Admit it, I'm right!"

"I was thinking that I loved, I _love_ you and-"

"Don't you fucking say that to me!" He's just trying to make you feel guilty, she tells herself. You know you did the right thing. Even if you didn't - it's too late to regret it now. "You don't get to say that, not when I came back and you were already playing house with someone else...clearly I was replaceable."

"Ohhh no. Hell no. You, of all people, don't get to tell me about being replaceable when _you_ were the one who ran out on me twice in one week!"

"You act like this was so easy for me, like I didn't...you have no idea what I was going through," she says, cursing herself for not being able to hold back a new wave of tears. It had all happened too fast. She had been stupid and naive and although she had known Don wasn't going to be thrilled at first, she thought he'd do the right thing. He loved her, didn't he? It's what Lindsey would've done- no. Lindsey would've been elated from the start. And then there he was, promising to take care of her, of them, and it was just too much and she was too proud to let him back into her life that way. So she ran. "You made it sound so simple, like we could just be this happy family and -"

"That's bullshit! I told you I knew it would be tough, but I was willing to do whatever I had to so that we could make it work. Were you even listening to anything I said back then or had you already made up your mind? Was it just another test to make sure I'd still drop everything for you? Because I know how you love that, and meanwhile I'm too fucking _stupid_ to tell you no!" Angered even further when he can't find anything within arm's reach to hurl at the wall, he pushes a chair until it topples over and then starts kicking at the underside of it.

"Oh, that's _real_ mature, Lindsey. Throw another tantrum when you don't get your way. And you have the balls to tell _me_ that I'd be a shitty parent?" He would've been an amazing dad, which made it all that much harder. If the timing had been different, if they hadn't been weeks away from spending a year on the road...no. It wouldn't have made a difference, because it never would've worked between them. The sooner she accepts that, the sooner she can stop being haunted by the 'what ifs' that creep into her head at night when she's too sober to sleep. "If you really loved me-"

" _No_. No, no- how would you even know? You've never loved anyone but yourself, you selfish bitch. " He gets tired of kicking the chair and starts pacing back and forth, a jolt of pain radiating from his already bruised toes with every other step.

She looks at him in disbelief from across the bed, the carelessly tossed about sheets a reminder of what they had been doing just minutes earlier. This is why we can't talk after sex, she thinks, not when we're already angry at each other. Usually they just get dressed and leave, marking the beginning of a silent truce. Sometimes he'll let her curl up with him, lay her head on his chest while he plays with her hair until the adrenaline subsides, but it's understood that that they'll never say a word to one another. It's what they should be doing now. Not this. "Right, right, I forget I'm talking to Saint Lindsey here. Like you weren't impossible to be with. _Im-poss-i-ble_."

" _I'm_ the impossible one?" he asks, ignoring how she's crawled back up onto the mattress and is again looking like she's ready to pounce. Instead he mimics opening a book, rifling through the pages. "Let's look at the record. How many poor suckers have you been through in the past few years? Meanwhile, Carol and I-"

She groans, throwing her head back until she's rolling her eyes at the ceiling. "You are _not_ going to use you and Carol as an- you don't even know where she is right now! She doesn't know that a half hour ago you were fucking someone else! What kind of relationship is that? You treat her like shit, Lindsey."

"You're going to lecture me about relationships? Why are we even here right now? Oh yeah- because you were having a meltdown, fighting with your boyfriend because he caught you sucking someone else's dick! Wow, I have so much I can learn from you."

She jumps off of the bed, and he's so distracted by marveling over how she managed to land on her feet that he's nearly knocked off of his _own_ feet when she starts shoving at his chest. "We're here because of _you_! You were the one who lied to him, you're trying to turn him against me because you're a jealous little bitch, and now you're trying to knock me up so you can sabotage my entire life. But you try to tell me that you love me? You don't love me. You just want to own me."

He slips out from between her and the table at his back, putting his hand flat between her shoulder blades and pushing her down until he hears the side of her head hit the wood. She struggles, arms flailing as she attempts to reach behind herself and push him away, but he easily grabs both her wrists with his free hand and holds them handcuff-style against her lower back.

Keeping a firm hand on the base of her skull so that she can't move her head, he leans down until they're face to face. She's yelling at him incoherently, speaking in tongues like a woman possessed, but his voice is low and measured.

"I already own you. Haven't you realized that yet?"

He lets go of her and she springs up like a jack in the box, her palm colliding with his cheek so forcefully that she squeaks in pain. It leaves an angry red mark, the same color as the one forming on her temple where her face hit the table. "Get the fuck away from me before I call security, cause you know I'll do it, you bastard piece of shit-"

"Go ahead! And while they're here, I'll tell them that maybe they should take a look at what's in your bag, hmm? They can start with all those unlabeled pill bottles and work their way through from there."

"Get OUT!" she shrieks, her bathrobe having fallen open enough in the struggle that he can see a bite mark on her left breast just above the nipple.

"This is my fucking room, remember? So _you_ can get the hell out."

Her departure is almost anticlimactic, silently grabbing her purse and striding out the door in her bare feet. He considers throwing her dress and shoes after her but decides it'd be more satisfying to make her come back for them.

He hears a thump in the hall outside of his room and squints into the peephole to see her slumped on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her in the same way as when he found her at the club earlier that night. But this time she's much quieter- all he can hear are some soft sniffling noises, like she's crying but trying to muffle the sound.

He heads into the bathroom but then stops mid-stride, swearing under his breath as he goes in search of the room list JC hands out in every new city. Robin is the logical first choice to call, but then he remembers that her boyfriend is visiting. Lindsey thinks that he and Robin have a pretty decent relationship, all things considered, and he probably shouldn't jeopardize that by interrupting her evening for Stevie-sitting duty. He decides to try Sharon- Lori is staying with her, so surely one of them will answer. "Hey. It's Lindsey."

"Wait, where's Stevie?" Lori asks in the voice of someone who's just been jolted awake. "I thought she came back with you, is she okay?"

He's not sure how to answer that, so he doesn't. "Uh, she's up here on 11 in the hallway. Do you think you could come get her and take her back to your room? I don't want her to- just. Come get her? And don't tell her I called you. Thanks."

He hangs up before she can reply and goes straight back to the bathroom to shower. When he's done, he checks the peephole again. She's gone.

\-------------------------

The last three weeks of the tour before the Christmas break went by quietly, even uneventfully by Fleetwood Mac standards.

Carol had woken up that next morning to find herself in Richard's bed with no recollection of the night before, and she came to her own conclusions.

"Nothing happened, Buck! We went back to the hotel and she passed out. There were no shenanigans."

"I believe you, " Lindsey assured him. Richard was too good of a friend to sleep with his best buddy's girl, and even if he had been tempted, he knew Carol's level of crazy far too intimately to try anything. "But why is she telling me you guys fooled around?"

"She freaked the fuck out when she woke up and wanted to know how she got in my room, and I hadn't really figured out what to tell her, so when she asked if we did anything, I just...I dunno, I just went with it! I told her we made out a little and then I said we had to stop because I knew she didn't want to cheat on you. That's all, I swear!"

Normally Lindsey would've shrugged it off, but Carol's night of 'infidelity' had made her even more clingy than normal, as if she was afraid she'd do it again if she didn't have him there to keep her out of trouble. Every cloud has a silver lining, though. When she started to question Lindsey's story about how he got all those scratches and bruises and bite marks (as he had in the past, he told her that she put them there- it's not his fault that she can't remember what she does when she's high), all he had to do was turn the conversation back to her cheating and the subject was forgotten.

As for Stevie, the two of them had avoided one another as much as possible. There were no muttered snide comments, no shouted tirades, no hissed accusations. Their sole offstage interactions came when they would catch the other watching them with an expression of wistful regret, only to trade sad smiles and look away.

After the final show of this first leg of the tour, Lindsey decided to take a chance and break the stalemate.

"Hey. Stevie."

She looks up at him from where she's sitting on a chair in her dressing room, changing from one pair of black boots into another with Robin at her side. "Oh. Hey."

"I'll go see if the limo's here yet," Robin volunteers, getting up and leaving the room before anyone could tell her to stay.

"Um. I just wanted to...thanks," Lindsey says as he leans against the doorframe. Again she had surprised him before Landslide, dedicating it to his father while his family was in the audience. This seemed to be her new way of letting him know she was ready to make peace, announcing to an arena full of people all of the things that she couldn't say in private. "For the dedication- it meant a lot to my mom and. Just. Everyone."

She shrugs, but there's a warmth in her eyes that he hasn't seen directed toward him in weeks. "Course. Linds?"

"Yeah?" he replies a bit too quickly, surprised that she wanted to keep the conversation going.

"In case you were...we're in the clear. Just so you know." He tilts his head to the side, afraid to express any sort of emotion about this one way or the other and set off another fight. "I took five of my pills that morning and five the next night, and I guess it worked."

"Are you...supposed to do that?"

"Probably not, but I'm still alive, aren't I?" she asks, laughing softly in the way she always does when describing her misadventures. "Mary's sister is a nurse and she's the one who told me to do it, so."

"I thought Mary's sister worked at a vet's office."

"Animals need nurses too, Lindsey," she chides, leaning back against the couch and smiling to herself. "I can't wait to see my babies. I miss them so much."

"You going back to your parents' for the holidays?"

"Yeah." Of course, she'll be flying to Phoenix alone rather than riding in the front seat of Lindsey's car like she did for half a decade. She thinks about forcing him to pull into shitty gas stations and then deciding she'd rather hold it once she saw their bathrooms, about splashing around in the backyard pool and sneaking through the house when her mom said they needed to be in separate rooms after midnight. "Until after Christmas, then I'm going down to Florida for a couple weeks. You?"

He holds back from commenting on what, or who, she'll be doing in Florida. According to Carol, Stevie had convinced Jimmy to forgive her- not that Lindsey was surprised. She had a way of making that happen. "Uh, Carol and I'll be in Hawaii until the 5th of January. Maybe we'll come back up here once we're home, I dunno."

"You're not going to your mom's?"

"Nah. It's...I just need to get away." He didn't mention how his mom and brothers weren't particularly fond of Carol, who (as always) didn't realize how her presence was grating on everyone around her. _There's nothing *wrong* with her, I just wish you'd find a nice girl_ , his mother had told him.

_Yeah, well. I thought Stevie was a nice girl_ , he had replied, _and look at how that turned out._

"Oh. I mean...I hope you have fun." Stevie sits up, reaching for her furry coat that's completely unnecessary for the mild northern California night. "I should probably go find Robin..."

"Okay, sure," he says, moving away from the door to give her a wide berth as she passes.

"I'll see you later, I guess." Mick was having one of his usual last-night-before-break parties, and oftentimes they would take advantage of a big crowded gathering like that to sneak away and have a little alone time. But apparently that wasn't in her plans for tonight. "Linds?"

"Hmm?"

She looks over her shoulder before rising up onto the balls of her feet to kiss him, her lips soft and gentle and her fingers stroking his cheek. When their mouths were no longer touching she dropped kisses on his eyelids and his forehead, nuzzling the tip of his nose with her own. "If I don't get a chance to say it before I leave- merry Christmas and happy new year. Maybe 1980 will be better for us, yeah?"

"I. Yeah," he mumbled with a dopey smile on his face, caught off guard by her sudden tenderness. "I hope."


	17. this is the start of something good (1997)

**_May 1997_ **

She wakes up to the smell of coffee, automatically reaching out and frowning when her hand touches an empty space on the mattress beside her. "Linds?"

"Right here," he says from behind her, and she turns her head to follow the sound of his voice. He's sitting on the edge of the bed with a mug in his hand and another one on the nightstand.

"You left me," she complains in a sleep-heavy voice, pushing herself up into a sitting position and taking a long sip of her coffee while he admires the view. This is the third morning in a row that he's woken up with a naked Stevie next to him, and he's still in that stage where he can't quite believe his luck. She either doesn't notice him ogling her, or else she's just ignoring it, because all she says after taking another drink and setting the cup down is "Get back here. I'm still sleeping."

He knows he won't be able to go back to sleep himself, but he could think of much worse things to do than lie in bed with her for another hour or two, especially since it _is_ her birthday. "Your wish is my command."

"Mmm. Good." She nods in satisfaction, the corners of her mouth still turned up in a content smile even after her eyes close again. She pulls the comforter up to her shoulders and burrows down into it like a cocoon before curling up beside him.

He loves that she sleeps in the same positions, makes the same faces when she's dreaming, even jabs him with her knees and elbows in the same way that she did when she was 20 years old. If it wasn't for the twinges in his lower back, these last couple of days would have made him completely forget that they _weren't_ 20 all over again. And not just because of the sex, although it's been plentiful. They actually fell asleep soon after their long-awaited Friday night 'reunion' and didn't wake up in time to go again before Karen showed up at 7:30 on the dot to collect the dogs. As he'd predicted, Stevie had gone back to sleep the first part of their drive, waking up just in time to start rubbing him through his jeans as they cruised across long empty stretches of desert freeway. They all but broke into a run when they got to the place where they were staying, not even managing to get their luggage out of the trunk until several hours later. Hell, he still hadn't bothered to unpack beyond pulling the few items he needed out of his suitcase. It's amazing how much you _don't_ need when all you're doing is eating, sleeping, and fucking. He packed light to begin with, knowing that Stevie would more than compensate for his minimalism- not that he was complaining. There was some grumbling when he was lugging her bags upstairs, but then later on she rewarded him by showing off some of the things she had bought on her last shopping spree. The girl still does love to play dress up. He loves the part where he gets to undress her. It's your classic win/win situation.

Being here with her like this, just the two of them together with the last self-imposed barrier between them finally torn down, it's easy to forget that the last twenty years ever happened and hard not to wonder about what could have been. Last night they went for a walk before dinner, just as the sun was setting, and she had picked a few wildflowers and tucked them behind her ear. _Aren't they pretty?_ she asked, smiling at him over her shoulder, and for a fleeting moment in the shadows of dusk he swore he saw the same girl he fell in love with as a kid. The one he never stopped loving, even when he was sure she was lost to him forever.

She snores softly, tucking her head under his chin, and he smiles down at her before closing his own eyes. Maybe he'll sleep a little longer after all.

\-------------------------

"Lindsey, we are getting out of this house."

He hadn't expected this answer when she woke up again and he asked her how she wanted to spend her birthday, especially when she still hadn't made any move to get out of bed after being awake for almost a half hour. "Oh yeah?"

"Yes," she said firmly, kissing all over his bare chest. "We...well, _I_ need a break, as much as I hate to admit it."

"I wore you out already?" he teased.

" _Already_? Baby, we-"

"I'm just kidding, angel," he reassured her, secretly glad she'd said it so that he didn't have to admit that his stamina was flagging. His dick was still willing, thank you very much, but his back was growing weak and the last thing he wanted was to injure himself to where he'd be, ahem, out of commission for any length of time.

"Just for the afternoon, okay?" she said, hoping that would be enough time to let the ache between her thighs subside. She should have anticipated this, that going from years of nothing but her hand and her Magic Wand straight into two days of almost nonstop fucking was going to leave her just a tiny bit sore, and she suspected that Lindsey needed the rest too. The night before she had gone down on him for as long as her jaw could hold out, not letting him come until he was full-on begging her for it and then sinking down onto his cock and riding him until they both finished together. His back was clearly hurting him after that, even though he denied it (there was no way it wasn't, not when she felt like she had just fallen off a mechanical bull), and so she tried to make it up to him by nudging him over onto his stomach so she could give him a massage. But then her hands wandered down to his ass and in between his legs, cupping his balls in her palm, and that was effectively the end of the massage. "Then tonight we can pick up where we left off."

"And where was that?"

She raised her eyebrows at him from over the rim of her coffee mug. "That giant tub in the bathroom, I think..."

They made out lazily for a while longer, neither of them in any hurry to get up, and then Stevie went downstairs to call Karen and check on the dogs. The next call was to her parents, and Lindsey stretched out on the sofa and flipped channels on the TV while he half-listened to her chattering away from inside the kitchen. "Linds, can you come here? Mom wants to say hi."

"Yeah, sure," he says, nodding when she told him she was going to get showered. "Barb?"

"Hi honey, " he hears Mrs. Nicks say, and he smiles at the warmth in her voice. "Is she still standing right there?"

"Uh, no. She went upstairs...did you want me to put her back on?"

"No, I wanted to make sure she wasn't there, because she'd kill me for asking, but- is she doing alright today? She sounds so happy, but I never really know if she's just saying what I want to hear."

He swallows hard. It wasn't that he forgot what today was, of course, but it's a different feeling hearing it mentioned aloud, like someone summoning a ghost. "She hasn't mentioned it, so I'm just taking her lead. But... " He thinks about when she woke up for the second time this morning, the way she beamed at him as brightly as the desert sun streaming through the window when he said _hey there, birthday girl._ "Yeah. She's telling you the truth."

"And what about you? " she asks. "How are you feeling?"

"Me? Oh. I'm...um. I'm alright, I guess," he says, taken aback by the unexpected question. It's been...well, probably 17 years since anyone's asked him that, at least when it came to this topic and this day in particular. Most of the people in his life didn't know much, if anything, about what happened, and the few who knew the significance of May 26th also knew that he didn't talk about it.

"It's okay, you know. To be _not_ okay. And I know you put on a brave face for Teedee, but you're allowed to fall apart sometimes when you need it," she says gently.

He's not sure he agrees. Maybe he did, once upon a time, but he thinks he used up that privilege ten years ago and now his penance is to suffer it all silently, just like he did before. "I'm...I'm fine. I promise. I just want her to be happy."

"I understand. But you lost someone too, sweetheart." _Lost someone._ It's such a strange phrase, like his daughter had been temporarily misplaced but could potentially find her way back. He didn't lose her, and not only because there's no chance of her returning, but because he never had her to begin with. _You have to be able to say hello before you can say goodbye_ , somebody had told him once. That's what he's missing. He never got to hold her or talk to her or see her just so he'd have some proof that she ever existed at all. Stevie carried her around for almost five months, felt her little feet kicking inside her. All he had was a few Polaroids of her growing belly and a memory of a blob on a screen and the echo of a tiny heartbeat.

"Yeah..." he says, uncomfortable with this sympathy that he doesn't feel he deserves, especially from her. He suspected as much, but now he's positive that she must not know what went down between him and Stevie in '87. It's surprising, considering how she's always told her parents just about everything. Not that he's complaining, though. It'd be pretty hard to come back from that one.

She picks up on his unease and doesn't press the subject. "I won't keep you any longer, I know you two are busy-" and he is never, ever going to be okay with this woman knowing he's had sex with her daughter; it still makes him feel like he did as a teenager when Stevie made him come over so they could tell her parents they were officially going together. "But we were so glad to see you this weekend, Jess and I, we're so proud of both of you. It makes us happy to know she's in good hands."

_'I can't do this anymore! I will never forgive you, Stevie, I will never be able to look at you without thinking about what you did. Never.'_

"I'll take care of her, I- I promise," he stammers as he hangs up the phone, haunted by the sound of his own voice booming inside his head.

_'You killed her! You killed my daughter, you bitch! And I hope it kills you for the rest of your life. I wish it would've been you.'_

Tugging on his hair as if that would rid him of the memory, he finds himself automatically moving toward the liquor cabinet in the kitchen. It had become his standard way of dealing with the guilt over the years, holing up in his studio and going on a bender until the hangover was more painful than whatever was going on in his mind. He thought he had moved past that. But now he's not so sure.

As he opens the cabinet door, he thinks about a day not even four years ago, of fidgeting restlessly in an airplane seat and pulling at the collar of his t-shirt like it was the reason his throat felt so tight. He was dying for a drink despite having already had several shots of whiskey as the sun rose just a few hours earlier. The night before, he'd sat at the Nicks' dining room table with Jess and Chris as the three of them nursed their drinks in silence. Once everyone was asleep, he'd gone back to the kitchen and brought the bottle upstairs to his room to finish it off.

Stevie was sitting beside him, absorbed in her own world as she stared out the window. She'd barely said a word to him all morning- whether that was out of anger or indifference, he didn't know. Hell, he wasn't sure if she was truly aware of where she was going, or if she even knew that she was on a plane right then. She had seemed confused at her mother's reaction when they left the house, telling her not to cry. 'I'll be quick, I promise,' she said, about as emotional as someone going on an errand to the corner grocery store.

He can't breathe. He's gotta get away, he'll parachute out the window if he has to, because he _can't fucking do this-_

"Lindsey?" she asked, and he abruptly turned his head toward her in surprise. Her eyes were still impossible to read, but her voice was curious, maybe even concerned. "Is something wrong?"

That she even had to ask, that she doesn't know this whole fucking situation is wrong... "I'm fine. Don't worry."

She frowned and shook her head, and he was afraid he might have triggered a moment of lucidity that would lead to another meltdown like the one she had the day before. It went on for hours, the shouting and crying and more unintelligible shouting, until she finally laid her head down in his lap and her whole body went limp. She had been mostly catatonic ever since.

"Here," she said after a brief deliberation, carefully lifting up the doll she'd been cradling in her lap and passing it over to him. "You can hold Rebecca."

"Stevie..." _I'm not going to hold the fucking doll,_ he wanted to scream, although he was also wondering what brought on this sudden change of heart. He'd been in Phoenix for three days and she'd only let him touch her once, but he hadn't even been able to look Rebecca in the 'eye' without Stevie giving him a warning glare and hugging her to her chest protectively, muttering for him to 'stay the fuck away from her'.

"It's okay," she urged him gently. "You're upset and it'll help, I promise. Robin taught me."

"Robin taught you?"

"Mmmhmm. I was sick and I was so scared but she told me, just imagine you're holding your baby. Because she's in there," she rested her hand low on her belly, "and you've got to be strong for her, because she can feel what you feel."

"This was-"

"When I was in the hospital. You weren't there," she said so matter-of-factly, without a trace of resentment, but it still hit him like a punch to the gut. "So now when I feel like I -" She stopped mid-sentence, and he couldn't tell if she didn't want to finish her thought or if she just forgot what she was saying. "I hold Rebecca and it reminds me. She needs me to be strong."

He sat silently, gaping like a fish as he struggled for something to say. It was impossible to tell at any given moment how much she truly understood anything going on around her, but this was the first time he felt like she was trying to make a genuine connection with him (other than her fist connecting with his jaw, he supposed, rubbing the purple bruise at the corner of his mouth).

He looked down at the doll, at her big blue eyes and her head full of chocolate-colored ringlets. "But...I mean, what about you?"

"You need her more than I do," she said, fluffing up the pillow behind her head and then leaning back and closing her eyes. "I'll be okay."

"Alright. You get some sleep and I'll, uh. I'll take good care of her." He felt ridiculous saying that but he meant it wholeheartedly. She had no real reason to trust him, showing up at her door uninvited after half a dozen years with only a few words exchanged between them and a dozen years of hurt and disappointment before that. If this was what it took to build some of that trust back, then so be it.

She reached out and rested her hand on top of his. "I know you will."

_Fuck,_ he thinks, putting the bottle in his hand back in the cabinet and walking away before he can be tempted by second thoughts. He's not going to do that to her, especially not today and not after how far they've come in such a relatively short time. Not when she's been so trusting and so willing to forgive after he's fucked it up again and again by shutting her out. He's going to love her, take care of her, the way he promised her parents he would. The way he promised her.

He's distracted from his thoughts by the sound of music coming from the bathroom and goes to investigate. She's got the radio on while she showers, singing along cheerfully to Angel of the Morning, and he just can't keep himself from admiring the outline of her figure through the frosted glass door.

"You pervert, I know you're there!"

"Who, me?" He pretends to retreat, stepping out of her line of sight and quickly getting undressed as she starts singing again.

"Lindsey!" she scolds a moment later when he opens the shower door and steps in behind her unannounced. "Didn't you hear me before? I told you, I can't."

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "I just wanted to help you wash your hair."

"Suuure. Tell your little friend that," she says, looking down at his growing erection.

"I can't help it!"

"Mmhmm. Is that why I wake up every morning before dawn because something's poking at my ass?"

He lunges forward and pulls her into a bear hug, laughing at how she squeals the same way that she did when she was 19 and he pushed her into his parents' pool. How he thought that would win her over, he doesn't know. Just like he doesn't know how he got her to fall for him in the first place, or how he got her back again.

All he knows is that he's not going to lose her this time. He'll make sure of it.

\-------------------------

"Uh...can you circle back around one more time?"

"One more time? Stevie...we've driven past everything three times already," Lindsey points out. "Just make a decision. Just admit you want pizza."

They had driven up and down the main road in Sedona three times so that Stevie could see what restaurants were there and choose where they should go for dinner, and Lindsey's patience was wearing thin. "I do. I don't even remember the last time I had it...but oh God, the carbs..."

He makes an executive decision and pulls into the parking lot in front of the restaurant she'd been eyeing longingly, a little cafe claiming to have the best wood-fired pizza in the state. "You'll live, c'mon. It's your birthday."

"I don't know..."

"I do. And if you're worried about the calories, I will personally make sure you burn every single one of them off later."

"You're terrible," she says, but she's smiling as she walks ahead of him.

She was happy, which meant he was happy. They had spent the afternoon driving aimlessly through the desert, enjoying the scenery and the sunshine. When they went into town, he let her drag him into all the little galleries and boutiques and made the appropriate noises as she admired jewelry and pottery and bought matching hand-woven alpaca wool sweaters for the dogs.

"What do you think about this?" she asked, holding up a...

"What is it? A scarecrow?"

She shakes her head, disappointed in his lack of artistic sophistication. "It's a spirit catcher."

"You sure it's not a scarecrow?"

"It's supposed to bring good luck," she told him, examining it carefully. "Wouldn't it be perfect sitting on top of the dresser? The one at the foot of the bed?"

"It's up to you, it's your house," he said to avoid having to give his actual opinion, because he's pretty sure that thing would be nightmare-inducing. He's also pretty sure it lived in his closet when he was five years old, looming over him in the shadows of his room. See, Dad, I _told_ you it was real!

"I know, but you're going to be looking at it too, and I don't want to hear you bitching about how you weren't consulted."

Suddenly he found himself hoping that it would be watching him sleep every night for the rest of his life. Bring on the nightmares.

The waiter brings their pizza to the table and he tries to hide his smile as he watches her eat, not wanting to make her self-conscious, but it makes him so happy to see her unabashed joy at something so simple. They even 'fight' over the last piece (he lets her win, of course).

"You folks from around here?" the waiter asks when he comes to clear away their plates. Stevie bites her lip, wondering if they've been recognized, but Lindsey throws him off the track by launching into a story about how they're high school sweethearts from the bay area celebrating their anniversary.

He squeezes her hand from across the table as he describes how he proposed, and she blushes and rubs his knuckles with her thumb. "It took me almost ten years to get her to say yes, if you can believe that."

"Oh, I can. You better thank your lucky stars you didn't let that one get away," the waiter says, laughing as he collects their check.

"Trust me, I do. She's stuck with me now!"

As they leave the restaurant, Lindsey looks over at her sheepishly. "Was that too much? Sorry. I just couldn't resist."

"It's okay," she assures him. The truth was that she'd enjoyed it, having a glimpse of what might have been, even if only for a moment. It reminded her of the time they had pretended to be husband and wife for the benefit of an old Japanese couple, of eating things they couldn't identify and drinking homemade wine and sleeping on a mattress on the floor like they were 23 again. Later on they promised each other they'd come back when they were actually married, and they'd bring their daughter with them so she could see her 'native' country...but like so much else, they never got the chance.

It just wasn't meant to be, she tells herself. And it still hurts. She doesn't imagine that will ever stop. But she feels so lucky to be where she is now, with who she's with now, when there's so much to look forward to in the future. It's been a long, long time since she's felt that way.

They stop at a liquor store on the way home and buy cheap champagne, the kind that they would've bought in college when they were trying to feel classy on a tight budget. "Stevie, you forgot the glasses."

"We don't need 'em," she scoffs, standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror as she pulls her hair into a bun atop her head. "Tonight we're drinking straight from the bottle."

She climbs into the giant tub and gets on his lap, reaching behind him for the bottle and taking a long sip. "Good?"

"It's _terrible_. Here, try some!"

He takes a drink and makes a face. "You were...not lying."

"You've gotten too used to the finer things in life," she points out as she leans in and kisses him, tasting the champagne on his tongue. "Mmm. Honey?"

"Yeah?"

"I've had an amazing birthday...just what I wanted. Thank you." She kisses the tip of his nose, then his forehead, then back to his lips. "And you know what I want now?"

She's purposely rocking back and forth in his lap, so he thinks he can guess, but he's sure as hell going to taunt her a little. "Oh, so you're done taking a break?"

"Mmhmm. I told you I would be, remember?" The warm water was easing the last of her aches, and the champagne was doing its part as well. It'd been six months since she'd had a drink, so it didn't take much before she was pleasantly buzzed, her skin flushed pink from the combination of heat and alcohol. "Linds," she groans, rising up on her knees as he sucks on one of her nipples, "Bed. Now."

"You need something, birthday girl?" he asks, lightly running his fingertip along the cleft of her ass until she's shuddering at his touch.

"Ohh. Yeah."

"What is it?" He's got his hand between her legs, fingers exploring gently, and he can tell she's soaked in a way that has nothing to do with the bathwater. "Tell me."

"I want you to eat my pussy, " she says before ducking her head against his shoulder and laughing shyly. Champagne _did_ always make her giggly, he remembers, and it seems that hadn't changed. But he knows she's not joking about her request, so he gets out of the tub and then helps her do the same.

He wraps a big fluffy towel around her and she dries off quickly, the two of them kissing and stumbling blindly toward the bed until the back of her knees hit the mattress. She lies back and he kneels down on the floor in between her legs, not wasting any time before he goes to work licking the wetness on her inner thighs and scratching his fingers over the small patch of dark curls just above them. "You're so fucking sexy, God."

She sighs softly as he kisses her hipbone and then follows the crease of her thigh downward, reaching for his hand and entwining her fingers with his. He takes his time exploring her with his mouth and tongue, carefully avoiding her clit, and she whines in protest even as she knows it won't do any good, that he's going to tease her for as long as possible. The tip of his thumb brushes back and forth over her entrance, collecting the wetness there, and she hears him licking it off of his finger before his tongue plunges inside her.

"Ohh...that's so good, baby..." She starts playing with his hair as he laps at her with long strokes, side to side and then up and down but always just short of where she really wants him. He slides a finger inside her and keeps it agonizingly still, circling her aching clit with his tongue, and she tightens her grip on his scalp when he adds another finger and starts moving them slowly, massaging her inner walls. "Mmm yeah...fuck me."

"You want me to fuck you, pretty girl?" he asks, and she replies by pushing his head back down. "So bossy."

He sucks her clit into his mouth and she moans in relief. He doesn't stop his slow torture entirely, though, flicking his tongue against her in an unpredictable rhythm and letting his teeth scrape over her swollen little bud ever so gently. " _Lindsey_! Please, oh god, please..."

When he glances upward and sees her head thrown back, her hands squeezing her breasts, he flattens his tongue against her clit and gives it a few more licks before holding it still and letting her take over. She grabs the back of his head again and holds him to her as forcefully as she can, thrusting toward his face so that she's rubbing herself back and forth against his slick tongue until she hears herself scream and her vision goes fuzzy around the edges.

He's not done, though, pulling his fingers out of her and sucking them clean before he goes back to licking up every last drop of her juices that he can find. She twitches beneath his ministrations, whining when he gets too close to her oversensitive clit. "Linds. I'm getting lonely up here."

"You are, huh?" He gets up onto the bed and hovers over her, the lower half of his face glistening and his cock twitching as it juts out from between his legs. "I wonder what we could do to fix that."

She grabs his face and kisses him, tasting herself all over his mouth. "You could start by fucking me...I'm pretty sure I still have plenty of carbs to burn off."

"I did make a promise," he says, and he keeps that promise several times over.

\-------------------------

He's awoken later that night by a muffled sob and he opens his eyes to see her turned away from him, her face buried in the pillow.

He doesn't have to ask why. "Steph...c'mere, angel."

She falls silent, her body still as if trying to convince him that she's asleep. But when he hesitantly reaches out and puts his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him, he sees her shoulders start to shake once again.

"I know. I know," he repeats, because what else can he say? He can't tell her it's okay because it's not, it never was and it never fucking will be, and he sure as hell isn't going to tell her not to cry when he's about to cry himself.

She seems startled to feel wetness on the back of her neck and he tries to pull it together, but it's too late now. He's never cried about it in front of anyone but her. Even Carol cried when he told her a half-truth in a flat, clipped voice. _she was pregnant. she lost the baby._ Carol hugged him and wept and he sat there and stared straight ahead at the wall in front of him until he couldn't stand it anymore and barked at her that if she really wanted to help, she could go get him a drink.

"'m sorry, " he chokes out. He doesn't want to do this to her, especially not now. She shifts around in his arms and brushes her hand against his cheek, not letting him turn away. "I shouldn't..."

"Yes, you should. It's okay," she whispers through her tears.

"I didn't mean it, when I said-"

"Sssh, don't," she says, resting her forehead against his. "Just. Tell me you still love me."

"I love you. God, I love you so much. Do you believe me?" She bites her lip and nods once, twice, her eyes huge and shiny in the darkness.

"I just w-wanted to. I wanted to be able to tell her goodbye. To make sure she understood that we t-tried our best."

"We did. Both of us did, " he says, his voice soft and consoling. The second part of the sentence goes unsaid- _but it wasn't enough._

"I wanted to hold her."

"I did too, baby. I wish..." He opens his mouth but no words come out, so he closes it again and grimaces as she strokes his hair to soothe him. "I wish we could've taken her back home and buried her next to my dad."

She looks surprised, and he hates himself a little for it. So many simple things that they kept hidden, letting resentment grow in the silence like hairline cracks in pavement that eventually split wide open. "You did? I...I never knew that."

"I never told you, " he points out lamely. "It- I guess it just didn't seem to matter. Not like we could do anything about it."

"I. I think she would've liked that."

"Yeah?" he asks, looking for some sort of reassurance.

"Yeah. I think it would've been beautiful."

After that, no more words are spoken. But they cling to each other, and they cry, and eventually the room becomes silent again as sleep overtakes them.

\-------------------------

"So. Uh. I guess I should get going?"

Lindsey stands in the middle of Stevie's living room with his hands in his pockets, not making any attempt to actually leave. They had just gotten back home and he had finished hauling Stevie's many bags up to her bedroom, which bought him some time before he had to say goodbye, but now he needed to come up with a new way to avoid having to go back to his empty house. He doesn't want to overstay his welcome, especially since they've been together 24/7 for four days straight and the last thing he wants is for her to feel suffocated.

"Oh. Yeah," Stevie says. She'd been dreading this moment all day, ever since she woke up sprawled out on top of him while he placed sleepy kisses on the crown of her head. The night before she had felt like her heart was shattering all over again, the way it had on so many nights over the last 17 years, only this time she wasn't alone. They might not have said much, but it was still more than enough to have him there grieving alongside her, and she couldn't help wondering how much of their lives since then might have been different if they had been able to heal together rather than letting it tear them apart. But she understands why it did, just like she understands why she didn't deserve to be forgiven and why she probably still doesn't. Even still, something inside of her healed last night and she feels so much closer to him now, making the thought of going to sleep all alone even less appealing than it already was.

"...Stevie? You okay?"

"What? Sure, I'm fine. Just thinking about how quiet it is without the dogs here." She knows it would be easy to stall his departure by luring him into bed, but it would also make it that much harder to let him go, and she's watched him get dressed and walk away enough times in her life already.

"That's what's missing, someone barking at me and biting my feet," he says, pleased to get a laugh out of her. He'd been unsure of what he would get when she woke up this morning, afraid that she'd be embarrassed for having broken down in front of him or worse yet, that she'd pull away from him out of guilt after seeing that his own wounds were in some ways still very fresh. He'd been so relieved when she opened her eyes and smiled at him, tenderly patting the stubble on his cheek and then letting him roll her onto her back for some slow, unhurried morning sex. It must've gone on for over an hour, just kissing and touching and whispering alternately sweet and dirty things to one another until they couldn't hold out anymore. He wants to wake up like that every day for the rest of his life, wants to-

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" she asks, interrupting his fantasizing. "I mean, you don't have to. But I know your fridge is probably empty, so..."

"I'd love to," he reassures her.

"And...well, it's getting late." She gestures toward the window, although it's barely six o'clock and won't be dark for another two hours. "If you'd rather just spend the night here, that's fine. Or not, it's totally up to you! You can even leave before Karen brings the dogs back in the morning if you want."

"What, and miss the chance to see my three favorite little mutts?"

Stevie rolls her eyes at his attempt to be funny. "They are not _mutts_ , they are purebreds with papers and their mother was a national best in show two years in a row!"

"Well, you certainly can't say the same about Karen, I'll give you that," he says, putting his arm around her and hugging her close. "And since the dogs aren't here to protect you...I guess I should stay. Just to keep an eye on things."

"Mmm. I like that. And if you're good...I won't even make you sleep in the dog bed tonight."

He kisses the side of her head, nuzzling her hair and inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo. "You're too kind to me, Ms. Nicks. Truly. Keep it up and I may just never leave."


	18. we'll go to sleep but this time not alone (1980)

**_January 1980_ **

As soon as the flight attendant announced that they could get out of their seats, Stevie was up and headed to the other side of the airplane.

Like always, she had been late arriving at the airport due to...oh, who knows why. She doesn't even remember now. But unlike most of their trips, this time the band was flying commercial, meaning the plane wasn't going to wait around for her. She had ran down the ramp right as the door was closing, giving her just enough time to stow her luggage and collapse into her seat before they took off.

It was certainly no accident that she was assigned to sit as far away from Lindsey as possible within the confines of the first class cabin. She could see the top of his head from across the aisles, but what really caught her attention was the short dark hair of his seatmate.

"Look who decided to show up!" Richard joked, standing up to hug her. "JC was shitting kittens, y'know."

"Yeah, yeah, he should expect it from me by now. Happy new year...how was your vacation?" she asked as she returned the hug.

"Cancun was very good to me. The tequila, the senoritas..." He gestured not so subtly toward the now empty seat next to Lindsey. "Hey, why don't you sit down for a while? We'll trade."

"Are you sure? I don't wanna kick you out."

"Course I'm sure. It'll give me another chance to shoot my shot with the lovely Ms. Sharon," he said with a wink, and then he was gone.

Stevie sat down beside Lindsey, still looking around. "Where's Carol?"

"What, that's the first thing you have to say to me?" Lindsey asked, chuckling. "No 'hi Lindsey, it's nice to see you'? Nothing?"

She laughs along with him, giving his arm a squeeze. "Hello there. But seriously- she's not here?"

"If I knew you were gonna miss her..." He shakes his head, still amused. "She had a couple of jobs lined up so she's staying back here. She'll meet up with us again in Australia."

"Oh, that's...too bad," she says, not bothering to hide her pleased smile.

Lindsey holds back his own grin, although he's just as happy as Stevie. It wasn't that he and Carol were having problems, per se- at least, no more than usual. But their constant togetherness was wearing on his nerves, so when she got the opportunity to do some modeling gigs in February, he insisted that she take them even if it meant she'd have to miss the Japanese leg of the tour.

Going on the road without her was something he hadn't done since the first month of the Rumours tour. Not that he'd admit it to anyone but himself, but he was too much of a pussy to face Stevie all alone day after day. Even the hassle of having to find the right time and place for them to sneak away when he _did_ want to see her was preferable to having to see her live her new life without Carol at his side to serve as a shield and a distraction. Also, she really pissed Stevie off, and he _will_ admit to enjoying that.

But while he was on vacation, he did a lot of thinking about everything that had happened between Stevie and him during the first portion of the tour. One thing he kept coming back to was the late night talk they'd had in their New York City hotel while their respective partners were asleep upstairs. They'd been honest with each other in a way that they hadn't been for a very long time, and for weeks afterward their relationship was as good as it had ever been post-breakup. She had mentioned during the conversation that she thought Carol made it harder for them to be friends, what with her being ever-present and ever-jealous. He brushed it off at the time, but as he thought more about it, he realized she was probably kinda right.

It wasn't like he was trying to win her back. That was a little too ambitious of a goal. He wasn't trying to just get her into bed, either. They could, and would, have sex whether they were getting along or not. All he really wanted was for the fighting to stop and for them to be friendly, if not actual friends, and this seemed like the perfect chance to give it a try. It's not like their relationship could get any worse, for fuck's sake.

"I'll give Care a call once we're in Tokyo and let her know you wish she was here," he jokes, nudging Stevie with his elbow.

"Yeah, you do that," she says, nudging him back. "I dunno how I'll get through three and a half weeks without her."

"I dunno how I'm going to get through three and a half weeks without a fucking joint. "

She frowns in sympathy, already missing everything she had stashed for safekeeping in her bottom drawer back at home. They had gotten acquainted with Japan's strict drug laws when they came in '77 and she had to leave all her pharmaceuticals behind, even her birth control pills. The only saving grace was their host country's freely flowing alcohol and the quaaludes available on request from less than scrupulous drugstores. But Japan had cracked down on the latter since then, and Paul McCartney had just that day been released from jail after being caught with weed ten days earlier, so no one was really looking to try their luck with anything illegal.

"Well, I think you could probably stay high off the fumes alone," she says, leaning in and pretending to sniff at him. "You smell like you should have a cloud around you like Pigpen."

"Richard and I might've been hotboxing in the limo."

"I could've guessed." She wrinkles up her nose, rubbing the spot in between her eyebrows. "Fuck, I just wanna sleep." She knew they were supposed to stay awake as long as possible on the flight to help their bodies adjust to the 17 hour time difference, but she'd been going pretty much nonstop for the last three days and the exhaustion was starting to set in as the high wore off, leaving her tired but still too wired to fully relax. "Where's the stewardess? Maybe if I have another drink..."

Lindsey starts to say something and she braces herself for a snide jab about her partying, but instead he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a little brown bottle. "Here, try this."

"Lindsey!" she gasps in a loud whisper. "What are you doing? I'm not letting you get locked up-"

He shushes her and produces a folded-up piece of paper from the same pocket. Stevie takes it from him, unable to read the Japanese characters. "It's all cool. I got a permit to bring these in case I start feeling like I'm going to have a seizure."

"What's it do?" she asks, examining the peach-colored tablet like it was a fine diamond.

"It's not gonna get you high or anything, but it'll make you drowsy. Did you have anything to drink on the way here?" She nods. "Oh yeah, then you'll sleep good."

"You sure? I mean, what if you need it?" She knew he rarely took his meds like he was supposed to, but she didn't want him having a seizure on a trans-Pacific flight on her account.

"Nah, I won't. And I can get more from a Japanese doctor once I'm there. I only brought it because Carol insisted...someone might as well take it after all the paperwork I had to fill out."

"Okay then," she says with a shrug, reaching for the plastic cup on the table in front of him and taking a drink before swallowing the pill. She takes off her glasses and folds them up, putting them into their case, then wraps herself up in the blanket she's been wearing like a cape and leans her seat back.

He leans his seat back too and then hesitates. "Do you want to..."

"Yes please." She waits until he lifts up the armrest in between them before settling herself in the crook of his arm, using his shoulder as a pillow. "Mmm, perfect. Night Linds."

"Night, Steph."

\-------------------------

She shouldn't have slept on the plane.

Sure, it was _awesome_ at the time. Lindsey might have understated the effect that pill would have on her, or maybe she was just that tired, but she slept soundly for over ten hours. She woke up to him playing with her hair, saying _rise and shine, sleepy girl_ softly into her ear, and she was amazed to find out that they would be landing in a little less than an hour. (She was also starving and really, really had to pee).

They got through customs smoothly, save for a misunderstanding when she accidentally checked that she was traveling with a pig on the declaration form, and from there it was a two hour journey into Tokyo. It was the middle of the night when they landed and the sun still hadn't risen by the time they checked into their hotel, so they all went to their rooms to nap for a while.

After a brief meeting in the afternoon, they had the rest of the day free. Stevie decided to go with Lindsey and Sharon and a few others to check out the giant 14 story department store down the block from where they were staying. Lindsey went straight for the electronics floor and she followed along, curious to see what he was searching for.

"It's called a Walkman. See?" he said, pushing a button to show her how it worked. "You just put the cassette in and plug your headphones into the jack, and then you can take it anywhere! I saw it on TV. They said it'll be another year before they sell 'em in America."

She was as amazed as Lindsey was by this new technology. What would the Japanese come up with next? She decided to get one for herself and one as a birthday present for Jimmy, which the salesgirl boxed and wrapped elaborately while Lindsey sniffed in irritation.

They met up with the rest of the group for dinner at a sophisticated-looking restaurant with an English sign in the window promising "Grilled Meat Of Cow." And that's what they got, even if they were unsure exactly which parts of the cow they were eating.

Once dinner was over, they were sent back to the hotel. Everyone was looking forward to an early bedtime- except Stevie, who was still wide awake. So she had a bubble bath and called Jimmy once it was morning in New York, but he was in a hurry to get to the studio and couldn't talk much. Now she was left doing nothing but staring out the window at the endless blinking lights of the Tokyo night sky.

She still couldn't believe that Lindsey left Carol at home. At first she was disappointed to hear that her absence was only temporary and that he wasn't done with her for good, but something was better than nothing, and knowing she wouldn't have to deal with seeing the two of them together was making her feel a lot more optimistic about this trip. She had been prepared for a few weeks of relative loneliness, with Jimmy being too busy to join her for this leg of the tour and Robin staying back in California until the end of February to plan her wedding. Her boyfriend had proposed to her on Christmas day, and as happy as Stevie was for the two of them, she couldn't help feeling some jealousy. She told herself it was because it meant their relationship would change, that Robin wouldn't be able to be her constant companion once she had a family of her own. What else could it be? It's not like she was envious of Robbie having a (soon to be) husband. She'd had her chance- multiple chances!- to get married and said no both times. She couldn't even commit to a boyfriend at this point in her life, let alone a marriage.

Jimmy told her it was because she was too hung up on Lindsey. They'd started fighting about it in Florida because of a comment she'd made about ketchup, of all things.

"You don't have ketchup. Do you have _any_ sort of condiments in here?" she'd asked, looking through his fridge one night while they were grilling. "Don't tell me you're like Lindsey and you only eat burgers if they're completely-"

"Damnit, Stevie, can we not have _one_ conversation that doesn't somehow come back to Lindsey?" According to him, she talked about Lindsey "all the fuckin' time. Enough."

She adamantly denied it, but he wasn't budging. "So what if I do? Will you relax? I've known him since we were kids, of course I'm gonna talk about him. He's a big part of my life."

"Yeah, how big? That's what I'm wondering," he grumbled.

"I can't believe that- are you honestly insinuating that he and I are- after everything I told you that I went through?"

And on it went. Did she feel guilty about lying? Maybe a tiny bit, but she never actually denied that they were still messing around sometimes. Besides, it was irrelevant. She didn't owe him an accounting of who she was sleeping with because he wasn't her boyfriend, and whether he believed her or not, that had nothing to do with Lindsey.

He apologized later that night, saying he didn't want to waste time being mad at each other when they wouldn't get the chance to be together again for two and a half months, and she accepted his apology because it was a stupid thing for him to be angry about in the first place. She'd been very clear to him about what their relationship was and was not. He had said he understood that they weren't exclusive, even if he'd prefer that they were, so what was the problem? Really, she was doing him a favor. She'd had multiple men that she'd considered 'boyfriends' in the time since she'd broken up with Lindsey, and she'd cheated on every one of them. She wasn't going to commit to someone again until she was sure about it. Jimmy _seemed_ to check all the boxes to make himself boyfriend material, but she had a very strong feeling that now wasn't the right time, and she trusted her intuition even if she didn't know where this feeling had come from or why she felt this way.

Still didn't make her any less lonely, though.

\-------------------------

Lindsey had just dozed off when the phone in his room started ringing. "'lo?"

"Hey Linds." Her voice was soft, warm and familiar unlike the drizzly metropolis outside.

"Can't sleep?"

"No...I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Nah," he lies.

"Come hang out with me?"

He looks at the clock. Carol would probably be calling in an hour or so, depending on what time she woke up.

He'll say he didn't hear the phone ring. "Be there in a few minutes."

And there he was a few minutes later, standing in front of her door. She opened it before he even had a chance to knock and beckoned him in. All the lamps in her suite were turned off, but the curtains were open to let the city lights illuminate the room with their multicolored glow.

She draped her arms loosely around his neck, head on his shoulder, and he rested his hands just above her hips as she swayed side to side ever so slightly like she was dancing to some silent rhythm.

"You hungry?" she asked quietly, and he shook his head. "Want something to drink?"

"Nah."

"Wanna go into the bedroom?" He nodded and she lead the way, stopping in front of the giant picture window on the far side of the room. The flashing neon seemed to go on forever, their fluorescent messages unreadable to her foreign eyes, and it made her feel like a futuristic Alice who'd fallen down a rabbit hole and left her home far behind. The rest of the world didn't exist and the past didn't matter- just them, two tiny beings in a vast universe. "It's pretty, isn't it?"

"Hmm," he hummed, eyes closed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair.

She laughed softly, extricating herself from his embrace and untying the knot on her robe to reveal bare legs peeking out from underneath an oversized Eagles t-shirt. Then she sauntered over to where he's sitting on the edge of the bed and settles herself sideways on his lap, reaching for his hand and massaging his palm with the pads of her fingers. "I missed you."

"Yeah?" he asks cautiously, something like hope bubbling up inside him.

"Yeah."

"Well. I mean. I guess I missed you too," he says with a sly smile. "It's been a long time."

She knows he's not just talking about the time they'd spent apart during the break, although she had forgotten how long six weeks actually felt when you'd gotten so used to someone's constant presence (whether it was welcome or not). But it'd been so much longer than that since the last time they'd been able to be together without watching the clock, wondering if anyone suspects anything and preparing their alibis. Here there's no one to answer to, at least not on this side of the planet, and nowhere to be until tomorrow afternoon. Tonight he belongs to her.

She traces his cheekbones with her thumb, studying his face carefully. "Did you think about me?"

"Course," he says, maybe a bit too eager, and he swallows hard.

Pleased with this answer, she rubs their noses together and giggles, pecking at both corners of his mouth. Then she stops and lets her tongue glide slowly across her bottom lip until she sees him subconsciously do the same, eyebrows furrowed from the effort it's taking him to hold back. "It's okay, baby. Kiss me."

He crushes their lips together as they both fall backwards into the mattress, laughing quietly at their shared eagerness. The kiss is urgent but still gentle, unlike the last time they were on a bed together, when it was more like a wrestling match with orgasms involved. Tonight there's no biting, no angry words. She drags the tip of her tongue over his teeth and then atop his own tongue, back and forth as if she was sucking his cock.

He feels her breasts pressing against his chest and reaches for the hem of her shirt, scowling when he sees what's written on it. "Take that shit off."

"Gladly," she says, tugging it over her head. "What about you?"

He pulls off his own shirt, old and worn with holes in multiple places, and rests his weight on his hands as he gazes down at her bare tits and the rosy peaks at their centers. "Fuck, I love how hard they get. Like they're begging for me to suck 'em. "

"Pl- _ohh_ ," she sighs as he takes one in his mouth and suckles, lightly tugging on the little bud. "More, Linds, don't stop."

He does the same to the other side before opening his mouth wider, his tongue flicking over the nipple as he sucks on her breast. His hand slowly caresses the curves of her body, smoothing over her hip, and then trails down to her ass before giving it a little squeeze.

"Mmm..." She smiles back at him when he kisses between her breasts and then gives her a playful grin, dipping his head again to lick at her belly button. His tongue traces a line down to the edge of her panties and he mouths at her through the cream colored satin covering her center. "Oh god...please."

"You smell so good, baby," he says, ignoring her pleas and reaching into his sweatpants to take his length in hand.

"Shit, c'mon. I need it."

He leans forward again so that they're eye to eye, lips just a fraction of an inch apart. "What do you want?"

"Just love me, baby. Make love to me."

 _Fuck._ His head drops slightly until his forehead is resting on hers and he draws in a deep breath, blown away by her sudden vulnerability. When he's sure he's not dreaming, he presses a quick kiss to her lips and then sits up and scoots back until he's reclining against the headboard with his legs spread apart. "Have you been a good girl?"

He chuckles when her eyes light up with recognition, nodding eagerly.

"You wanna come sit on daddy's lap?" Another nod as she kneels on the mattress facing him, wriggling out of her underwear, then hooking her thumbs in the waistband of his sweats. "Uh. Maybe I should keep those on. Cause if I don't, I'm definitely gonna..."

"I know, I want you to," she says with a coy smile.

He hesitates, wanting this to be all about her, but she's insistent. Once he gets his pants off and drops them onto the floor with the rest of their clothes, she sits in between his legs and leans her back against his chest. "Are you wet for me, pretty girl?"

She knows he's already very aware that she's soaked, but she plays along and nods again. "I am."

"You're so...fuck. You're perfect." He puts one arm around her shoulders and hugs her to him, kissing the top of her head. "You want me to make you feel good?"

"Please, daddy," she says, hooking her legs around his as he starts gently kneading her inner thighs with both hands. Even though it's a motion that should be relaxing, she's twitching in anticipation for what comes next. It's been a long time since they've done this, but it's impossible for her to forget how amazing those long fingers of his really are.

His thumbs move in small circles inward from her thighs to her slick outer lips, carefully spreading them open, his chin resting on her shoulder so that he can see as much as possible. By now he knows what to do and where to touch her solely by feel, muscle memory guiding the way, but he has purely selfish reasons for wanting to watch what his hands are doing and how she reacts. "Do you like that, baby?"

"Yesss," she hisses, shivering at the feeling of the cool air on her warm center.

"Do you want to play with your tits while I'm touching your pussy?"

She squeaks out another 'yes' and he takes her hands in his, putting them on her breasts. She rubs her palms against her nipples and groans when he resumes his exploration, feeling another surge of wetness as he strokes both sides of her clit with his thumbs while his fingers massage around her opening. "I. I need-"

He pushes the tip of his middle finger inside her and then stops when she lifts her hips to try drawing him in further. His left arm wraps around her waist, holding her closer to him and preventing her from thrusting against his fingers.

"Relax, I've got you," he says in a hushed voice, kissing the side of her neck. He flattens his hand across her stomach, mimicking the circular motion she made when she was rubbing her nipples, and she leans her head against his chest while his thumb circles her clit. "More?"

"Please," she groans. He tightens his hold on her midsection before sliding another finger inside her, giving her a moment to adjust before he starts moving them. And this is the part where she really comes to appreciate all the years he's spent fingerpicking that guitar, because it's allowed him to master the art of doing multiple things at once with the same hand. He bends and flexes the two fingers he's fucking her with, searching until he's found the right spot inside of her and then making little half circles, pulling his fingers almost all the way out before plunging them back in. Meanwhile his thumb is working her clit, pressing rhythmically on the swollen bud while his free digits stroke up and down the length of her pussy. "Fuck, I'm gonna..."

He adds a third finger when he feels her inner muscles tighten around him, knowing that she's close as she writhes around in his arms and moans wordlessly, pinching her nipples. He murmurs softly into her ear, _let go, pretty girl, I've got you, wanna see you come for me_ , and when she does, it's wave after wave roiling through her entire body.

But she's still not completely sated, and she knows he has to be incredibly uncomfortable given that she's been grinding her ass against him this whole time. She pounces on him as soon as she's able to move, on all fours with her hands resting on his thighs. "That was so good, baby...shit. You're amazing."

"Only for you," he says, kissing her forehead, and her already pounding heart flutters even more. She's always suspected that his sex life with Carol was rather mediocre, despite the two of them slobbering all over each other in public, and she highly doubted that he cared much about whether his girlfriend was satisfied in bed or not. But it still meant something to hear him say that, to think that maybe they still have a connection beyond what they have with anyone else- no matter what they 'officially' are to one another.

She wants to tell him that, and maybe she will, but it'll have to wait. There's no way she's going to take a chance of ruining this moment by bringing up friggin Carol Ann and besides, there are much more pressing matters at hand. Literally. She takes hold of his length, flushed and bobbing toward his belly, and swirls her thumb over the leaking head. "Now fuck me. Hard."

He sits up with his legs tucked under him and grabs her hips, letting her line him up with her entrance, then pushing her down on his cock until he's buried to the hilt inside her. She gasps at the sudden intrusion and reaches over his shoulder to grab onto the top of the headboard with both hands.

"Damnit, do we need-"

"We're alright. I took my pill right before I left last night, so technically I haven't skipped a day yet. I'm sure," she adds when he hesitates.

"Okay," he says. She raises herself up until only the head of his dick is still inside her and then abruptly sits back down. He growls as he digs his fingers into her hipbones, bouncing her up and down on his cock. She bites at his neck and shoulder, squealing as he mouths at her breasts, and it's urgent and hungry and not at all the slow romantic sex that he thought she wanted, but she doesn't seem to mind.

 _Really_ doesn't seem to mind, if the sounds she's making are any indication. "Ohhhgoddd. Harder, baby, give it to me. C'mon."

"You want me to fuck you hard?" He lifts her up until he slips out of her and then pushes her onto her back with her head almost hanging over the edge of the bed. Then he kneels down in between her legs and starts up again, driving into her over and over. "This what you wanted?"

"Yes!" His thrusts keep pushing her forward, the crown of her head no longer on the mattress, and tilting her neck back sends a tingly rush of blood to her brain that only heightens the sensations she's already feeling. She reaches down between her thighs and starts rubbing her clit between her thumb and forefinger.

"Jesus, Steph..." He's transfixed by the sight of the woman beneath him, watching her body arch toward him as his dick moves in and out of her slick heat. Her inner walls are impossibly tight around him and he can't hold out any longer once she comes for the second time, emptying himself into her with a loud groan. "Holy _fuck_."

"Mmmugggh," she answers, fucked out and lightheaded. He collapses face down beside her and she giggles, scooting closer to him and running her fingers through his hair until he turns to face her.

"That good, huh?"

" _Very_ good, " she assures him, again holding herself back from saying something like _you would think you haven't had sex in months_. If it's not true, she doesn't want to know, and if it is true, then Carol's loss is her gain.

They lie there making out for a while before Lindsey gets up, Stevie stretching her arms above her head contentedly and closing her eyes. A moment later she feels a warm washcloth on her inner thigh and purrs in appreciation. She listens to him go back into the bathroom and then return again, opening her eyes when he doesn't lie down beside her like she was expecting. Instead, he's walking through the doorway into the other half of her suite. "Are you...where-"

"I'll be right back," he says. He must have heard the uncertainty in her voice, because he takes a step toward her and squeezes her ankle in reassurance. "I was just gonna get us a drink. Figured you'd want one."

She smiles, but she's still unsure. "You're...you're gonna stay here, though. Right?"

"I'd planned on it, yeah. Unless you're kicking me out?"

"No way," she says as she smiles again, this time fully at ease. "But while you're up, can you call room service and tell them I want waffles? I'm starving here."

"Anything for you," he says, and he means it. 


	19. maybe today you could put the past away (1997)

**_June 1997_ **

"So I don't know if you've heard, but they have this thing called delivery..."

"Karen."

"And it's really an amazing thing. You call the restaurant, and _they_ send somebody to drop it off wherever you want. See? It cuts out the middle man."

"Karen, " Stevie repeats warningly. "That's not the point, though, to just get him the food. I want to see how he's doing."

"Probably the same as he was doing four hours ago, " Karen says. For the third day in a row, Stevie had insisted on going to the studio in the mid-afternoon to visit Lindsey and bring him something to eat. What this really meant was that Karen had to place the order, drive out to get it, sit in traffic on the way to the studio, hang around for however long her boss wanted to stay, and then fight the traffic to get home, all while Stevie lounged in the back seat petting the dogs and reading magazines.

"What do you think I should make for dinner?" Stevie asks, ignoring Karen's complaints. "I still have some of that chicken left over from Monday, I could do something with it..."

"You have that phone interview at 5:30, don't forget," Karen reminds her.

"Hmm," she says, and it's already forgotten. That's what she pays Karen for, anyway, to remember all that shit. Her mind has been elsewhere for the last month. Things with Lindsey had been so good that it was almost scary- they hadn't spent a single night apart since the night that they taped the show, and more and more of his stuff had started to accumulate at her place. Sometimes he came back from the studio late at night, so late that she was already asleep, and she woke up in the morning to him kissing her goodbye before he headed out again. In a way, she liked those nights best of all. It would be easier for him to take the shorter drive to his own house, and he knew she'd be sleeping the entire time that he was there, but he wanted to be with her anyhow.

Of course, it was more fun when they were awake. They'd had sex every day, save for those few nights when he was putting in long hours at the studio, and they had _way_ more than made up for those nights the next day. But that's not all they do together. They watch movies and go for walks with the dogs and float around together in the pool after dark. (Lindsey keeps trying to convince her to go skinny dipping. 'Pretend we're back in Japan,' he says, but she still refuses. Besides, she thinks there's something sexy about him pulling her swimsuit to the side, those long fingers curling inside her under the translucent veil of the water...).

The other night they drove up to their old makeout spot in the hills, but they didn't even get to second base before they had company in the form of a car full of teenagers drinking shitty beer and smoking even shittier weed. So they ended up down at the beach, lying on a blanket and stargazing with the crashing waves as their soundtrack, and it was one of those moments where you just know, even while it's happening, that you're going to look back at it 30 years from now as one of your fondest memories.

She's so, so lucky.

"How long are you gonna be here?" Karen asks as they pull up to the studio parking lot. "Maybe I'll just wait in the car."

"It's 90 degrees, you'll either die of heatstroke or kill the battery by running the A.C. for so long."

"Or, you know, you could be quick," she points out. When Stevie just stares at her blankly, she groans and turns the car off. "Come on then, we've got stuff to do at home."

"This isn't just a social visit, this is my album too. They might need me for some more vocals," she says, knowing damn well they're working on Big Love all day today. She waves to the receptionist as they make their way back to the studio where Lindsey and a few others are holed up.

As usual, Lindsey is engrossed in the music and doesn't realize they have company until one of the engineers elbows him in the ribs and he looks over his shoulder. "Your lady's here, man."

"Hey there," he says, getting up and kissing her temple as she looks at him warily. He knows she's not a fan of PDA in general, but their relationship is no big secret to the guys he works with, even if he's just shrugged them off and refused to say anything when asked if she's his girlfriend. Like it was with the band, he thinks it's pretty self explanatory. And the band got the message, or at least Mick did, because last weekend he invited him on a golf outing that was clearly planned as the setting for an interrogation as to What Are Your Intentions With Our Stephanie. He knew it was coming, and he can't totally blame the guy when this whole grand reunion is predicated on everyone being able to tolerate each other. But he also knows Mick has more than a professional interest in what's going on with him and Stevie, which is where it gets tricky. He believes her when she says that their whole relationship was one very big, very grave error in judgement, that it was motivated by many things but that true love wasn't one of them, and that the sex was awful. (She volunteered that last part- he never would've asked the question, but he definitely wasn't unhappy with the answer). That's only her side of the story, though. He doesn't think Mick is actively trying to win Stevie back, or is even wishing that he could, but he's still never going to open up to him about Stevie beyond the bare minimum needed to reassure him that things are fine and they are being mature about this.

(So mature, in fact, that they snuck away once lunch was over:

"I'm going out for a smoke," he announced, to which Stevie quickly said she was too.

Karen looked up from her salad with a tired expression. "You quit smoking."

"Yeah, well, I'm starting again today.")

They _did_ actually intend to go outside, but ended up ducking behind a file cabinet at the end of an empty hallway. Karen found them several minutes later, fake-coughing loudly as she turned the corner, which gave him just enough time to get his hand out from underneath her shirt. He took a step back and grinned casually. "Hey Karen."

"I thought we were done with this now that you two-" She heard Stevie snickering quietly, still concealed behind the metal cabinet, and rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I need her back. She's got things to do today."

Stevie reluctantly came out of hiding, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye. "Call me when you're leaving here so I know when you're coming home, okay?"

"Course, angel. Karen, as always, it's been a pleasure."

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, taking Stevie by the arm before she could stall any longer. He and Karen had more or less entered into a truce over the last month, and Lindsey's hoping it's because she's decided he really _doesn't_ have ill intentions toward her boss, but he thinks it's mostly because he's trained the dogs to shit in one specific patch of grass rather than all over the yard. Hey- whatever works, right?

\-------------------------

"I was thinking about having Mary and Sharon over on Sunday for brunch," Stevie says as she sits down on the couch that night after dinner.

"Is that your way of saying I need to make myself scarce because it's girl time?" Lindsey asks, sitting down beside her. He's still trying to figure out his place among her crew of girlfriends. He's known them all for ages, of course, and they're nice enough to his face, but he always gets the feeling that they're just waiting for him to leave so that they can rehash something he did in 1979. Those women have memories like a herd of elephants. "It's okay, you don't have to worry about me. I need to go back to the house and start getting some stuff packed up, so I'll do that then."

"Packing up _what_? And why?"

He hadn't really figured out how he was going to tell her. He thought about not saying anything at all until after the fact, but he knew that would make her mad(der?), so he guesses now is as good of a time as any. "Uh. Well, you know I was telling you about the earthquake damage, right? Anyway, the contractor said it was going to be a major project, they'd be tearing a lot of shit up, and so I decided that while I'm already having that done, I might as well get some other things that I've been putting off taken care of, which means it's gonna take a while. Could be eight or nine months where it's not livable."

"And so you're going...where?" she asks, mildly confused.

"You don't have to worry," he promises. "I'm just gonna get a hotel room, probably somewhere near the studio."

Her lips purse in that way he really hates. "Oh. Sure, okay."

"Stevie-"

"That's fine!" she says, and he holds himself back from pointing out that he didn't ask whether it was fine or not. Whenever she starts answering unasked questions, it's a sure sign that she's mad. "You can do whatever you want."

There it is again. "Stevie, c'mon. I knew you were going to do this. It's not a big deal, alright?"

"Sure, it's not like you're already basically living here or anything."

"And that doesn't have to change! I can still come over every night, just like I have been," he says as one of the dogs, sensing a shift in the mood of the room, gives him a long disappointed look before jumping off of the couch and heading for the door.

"Of course. Just show up whenever you want, leave whenever you want...the door's open," she says, but her face isn't as welcoming as her words might suggest.

He scoots toward her, hoping she'll do the same. She does not. "Steph. It's not that...I mean, I didn't want to intrude. I know it's important for you to have your space, and since we haven't been dating all that long...I dunno. It just seemed like it was too soon to talk about something like that."

"Wow, you really have changed," she sniffs, still smarting from him seemingly implying that he's happy just using her place as a crash pad to sleep and fuck in. She had tried so hard to make it feel homey for him, making him coffee in the morning and dinner at night and doing his laundry (well, she puts it in the machine. It's up to him to fold it; she's not his mother). "I remember you moving Carol Ann into our old house after you'd been going together for what, a month?"

He closes his eyes and presses his lips together in a tight line. She's trying to pick a fight, purposely using the phrase 'our house' when she was the one who moved out and the one who wouldn't marry him (three times), and he's not going to let her bait him. "That was 20 years ago; it's not relevant now. Look, maybe I should've told you about this sooner, but-"

"I gave you a key, Lindsey, I wouldn't have done that if I didn't want you here," she says, standing up and shaking out her hands. Hell, she decided to do it even when she wasn't quite sure where they stood, because she wanted him to see that she trusted him and that she was serious about this. Why didn't he get that? "You said what, eight or nine months? So it's not forever, it's-" She sees his expression change and her own hardens. "Unless you're not counting on us still being together then, I guess, in that case it would make sense."

"And now you're just being ridiculous."

"It's not like I'm asking for a lifetime commitment right this second, but I'm too old for this." She stops moving but doesn't turn around, doesn't want him to see the tears forming in her eyes. "I'm done with dating casually and I thought you understood that. I thought we were on the same page. If-"

Both dogs reappear in the doorway and sit down to watch the proceedings warily, ready to flee again at any second. "Stevie, you're not listening to- I already said, I should've told you sooner. But I knew you'd say that I should come stay here, whether you wanted me to or not, and I didn't want to put that burden on you-"

"So again, you just decided what was best for me without actually talking to me about it! Like when you decided it was better if we weren't in the same band, or when I got out of rehab and you decided we shouldn't see each other, or when...our baby died and you decided we shouldn't get married-" And that one leaves him with his mouth hanging open because...what the hell does she mean by that? He never- he doesn't even have time to finish that thought, because she's still talking. "Huh. Funny how all of those stories end with you leaving. Because that's what you do best, isn't it?"

"You left me first!" It's an automatic response, and not a particularly mature one, but it's out of his mouth before he can stop it. "You were the one who fucked other people, and you were the one who decided it was over when I _begged_ you to try and work things out, so who the hell are you to talk to _me_ about leaving?"

She presses her fingers to her forehead, nails digging into the skin. "Lindsey, it is late, and I just can't deal with you right now. I'm going to bed and we will talk about this tomorrow."

"So I'm supposed to..." he says with great caution, genuinely unsure what she wants from him right now.

"Go!" she shouts, finally turning to face him and throwing her hands up in frustration. "Just go home. Please."

"Are you seriously- you're kicking me out because you're pissed that I didn't ask if I could move in? Because that's some prime irony, I've gotta tell you." He knows he's being an ass and that he should just take her advice and leave, but _she_ was the one who had to go and blow things out of proportion in the first place by bringing up shit that was ancient history. Watch, next she'll say she's still mad about the time he pushed her into the pool when he was 18.

" _Get out of here!_ "

He decides it's useless to keep arguing with her and grabs his keys from where he left them near the door, almost colliding with Karen on the front steps.

"What did you do now?" she asks as he stalks past her.

"Fuck off, Karen."

"Goodnight!" she calls to him, watching him struggle to open his car door before she goes inside to check on Stevie. The dogs are yapping furiously at her ankles, trying to apprise her of the situation. "Stevie? What'd he do?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, Kare, leave me alone. I'm going to bed." She brushes her cheeks with her palms and turns to go upstairs, the dogs obediently following behind, and Karen notes that they don't look particularly disturbed by the lack of one Mr. Buckingham. "Want me to turn on the alarm so it'll go off if he tries to come back?"

No answer. Karen shrugs and grabs one of the blankets off of the back of the couch. She'll just crash here, at least for a while. He'll be back soon enough.

\-------------------------

Lindsey drives around in aimless circles for an hour, then two. He doesn't want to go home, where he knows he'll just drink himself stupid. Months ago he promised himself that he was done with that, was done drinking when he was angry or sad or alone or any combination of those three, and he's trying so hard not to go back on that promise.

_You left me first._ He keeps hearing his own words on an endless loop in his head, reminding him of another night spent driving around the city about 20 years ago.

She had called him sometime after midnight, crying and slurring her words so badly that he could hardly understand her. _Come over, I need you. Please._

He told her no. _I'm done with this. You can't ignore me for weeks and then call me when you want someone to fuck it all better._ He was still livid over finding out that she had been screwing around with Mick- he had gone to her house and nearly kicked the door down when she wouldn't let him in, even though he had seen her watching him through the window. If she would've just _talked_ to him...but no, she had to call one of their old (male) friends to come over and play bodyguard, sobbing about how he was 'scaring' her and threatening to call the cops if he didn't leave. They hadn't spoken to each other since.

_Please_ , she begged on the other end of the line. _I'll do anything. You can have my mouth, my ass, whatever you want. I. I j-just need you here._

He'd never heard her talk like that before and he felt physically ill. He wondered where that came from and who that line worked on, who it was that likes girls who made them feel like they should leave a $20 on the nightstand on the way out. _Go cry to Mick this time_ , he said, grabbing his stomach as he was struck by another one of the sharp pains that had been leaving him doubled over in sporadic agony ever since they got home from tour.

He meant what he said, he wasn't going to come console her after whatever drama she'd gotten herself into this time. But his body didn't seem to be listening to his own words, because soon he found himself getting dressed in the dark and making the drive over to her house.

Sharon answered the door in her pajamas, bleary eyed and confused. _No, Stevie hasn't been here since yesterday afternoon. I don't know where she went._ Now he was afraid, that knot in his belly tightening at the thought of her strung out and desperate at God knows where.

He drove all around town, to Robin's house and Richard's house and to a few of the places he knew she liked to party at, and no one had seen her. He was getting progressively more worried and too drunk to drive, a mostly empty bottle stashed under his seat when he finally pulled into Mick's driveway. It was the last place he wanted to be, literally the last place he looked, but he wasn't going to be able to go home until he found her.

Mick appeared to be in remarkably good spirits, considering the late hour. That is, until he saw Lindsey at the door. He hemmed and hawed and said he had no idea where she might be, but he was a terrible liar even when he was high and Lindsey could tell just by looking at him that he knew more than he was letting on. _Fine, mate, I'm gonna be straight with you. We might've had a little disagreement earlier..._

He honestly doesn't remember everything that happened after that. But he remembers grabbing the other man by the neck, his hands squeezing his throat, and Sara screaming and screaming and chasing him out of the house while wielding a baseball bat. He could hear sirens in the distance as he drove off, blinded by rage and navigating the streets by pure adrenaline. A frantic Carol was waiting outside when he got home, _what the fuck is going on and where the fuck have you been?_ , and when he slapped her hard across the face, he doesn't think he felt a thing.

Years later, he recounted the incident to his therapist. _You were angry_ , he said, and Lindsey wondered why he was paying a couple hundred an hour for this. _But at who?_

"I was angry at Mick. Obviously. He'd hurt Stevie and I just wasn't okay with that."

"And? Who else?"

He bites his lip, scratches his head, rubs his cheek. "I guess...I was mad at myself for _being_ mad. Like, why the hell should I care that he was cheating on her when- he wasn't even _cheating?_ They were both with other people, he wasn't...I should've stayed the fuck out of it. I told myself I wasn't going to come running every time she needed me anymore, but I'd spent hours freaking out when I couldn't find her and I just...snapped. I was so pissed at not being able to say no to her."

He thought he'd made a breakthrough, that surely his therapist would be pleased, but the other man just nodded and scribbled something down. "Who else?"

"What do you mean, who else? I was mad at Stevie too, I guess, it was her fault that I was out there in the first place. And like I said, I should've stayed the fuck out of it. She was the one screwing around, she knew what he was like- maybe she was just getting what she deserved. But... "

"But what?" he asked as Lindsey shifted restlessly in his chair, fists clenching and unclenching.

"But it hurts! When you trust someone and they betray you like that," he says, unaware of his shift in wording as he speaks faster and faster, "when you give them _everything_ and they just rip your heart out again and again because you _believed_ them when they said they wouldn't- _goddamnit!_ "

His therapist nodded again, pausing for a moment. "Were you ever physically violent with Stevie? When she told you she'd cheated on you?"

"What? No, never," he says, almost offended by the question. "I never even raised a hand to her, not while we were together. Not even when she broke it off."

Another nod. "But did you ever _want_ to?"

\-------------------------

"Hello?"

She answered midway through the first ring, so quickly that he was at a loss for words even though he was the one who made the call. "You're, uh. You're not sleeping."

"I'm not," she says, but there's weariness in her voice.

"Can I come up and we can talk? There's some stuff I wanna say...and apologize for."

She sighs softly, twisting the telephone cord around her finger. "I guess so. Where are you now?"

"Just down the hill," he says. She had forgotten that he had one of those cellular phones now.

"I'll come downstairs and let you in. But be quiet, I think Karen's sleeping down there." He agrees and she hangs up the phone with another sigh, searching in the dark for her robe and pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail.

Sure enough, Karen's asleep on the living room couch. She holds a finger to her lips to motion for Lindsey to stay silent when she opens the door for him, the two of them tiptoeing upstairs like kids trying to sneak past their parents.

The dogs don't get the message to keep it down, barking at them once they get to the bedroom. Stevie tries to shush them as she sits down on the bed and they jump up in her lap. "I know, babies, we're both here. Now hush." Lindsey sits down beside her and she regards him coolly. "You had something to say?"

"How could you even think that I'm not committed to this?" he blurts out. Shit. That wasn't how he intended for that to go. _Use 'I ' statements_ , he can hear his therapist saying. "Stevie, I...I love you. So fucking much, and I want...no. I _need_ this to work, because I don't think we're gonna get another chance. I really don't. "

"Uh-huh," she says flatly, waiting to see where he's going with this.

"And lemme just get it out of the way up front- I'm sorry. I know I handled this whole thing badly, and I should've... _we_ should've talked about it together. I fucked up and I get it. But..."

"But," she repeats. She knew this was coming, that there was some sort of caveat attached to his 'I'm sorry', which is why she didn't let herself get too optimistic when he said that he wanted to apologize.

"But the reason I didn't talk to you about it before is...fuck. It's not that I don't want us living together! It's the exact opposite, actually, because I do want that. A lot. But if I'm gonna move in..." He lets his head rest against the wall at his back, knowing that he has to be honest but hating it, hating that he's likely going to hurt her and hating that he can't just force himself to _not_ feel the way that he does. "I need to be sure that if I'm gonna do that, gonna take that step, I need to know that it's for good. Because if it's not, if we don't work out and you want me gone- I can't go through that again."

She can tell just by looking at him how hard it was for him to admit that, and she knows that the 'right' thing to do, the selfless thing, would be to set aside her own feelings and try to comfort him. But she just can't. "You don't trust me."

"Steph..."

"I want to be angry at you for it. But I know what a huge hypocrite that would make me." She gets up off of the bed and goes to stand at the window, the overcast sky preventing all but a single sliver of moonlight from illuminating her dark bedroom. She doesn't bother asking him _why_ , asking him _haven't I proved to you yet that I've changed?_ , because she's already certain of the answers. They're the same ones she herself has, _I don't know_ and _yes, but..._

He follows her over to the window and stands behind her, hesitating. When she doesn't step away from him, he reaches out and gently rests his hands on her shoulders.

"Are we crazy for thinking that we could really make this work after...God, after everything that's happened in the last 30 years?" she finally asks. "I used to think maybe we'd run out of chances, but now I'm just wondering...is it too much to ever get past?"

She's not sure that she wants an answer to her questions, and neither is he. "I don't want it to be."

"It shouldn't be, if we love each other enough. I don't think we would've gotten to where we are right now if it wasn't meant to be, or if it was an impossible task. But then things like this happen and...I just don't know anymore."

"Stevie, no," he says, the hand on her shoulder feeling suddenly cold as his grip tightens. He's heard this before. "I'm sorry. We can do this, I swear, I'll-"

She turns around and pulls him into her embrace. "Sssh, honey, it's okay. I'm not giving up, alright? Even though it's tough and I get frustrated, I love you. I'm not going anywhere."

Being so close to him like this, she notices how tense he is all over and suggests they go lie back down. He waits for her to get settled first and then climbs on top of the covers beside her, his head on her chest. They both stay like that in silence as Stevie slowly threads her fingers through his hair. He's beginning to go gray, a fact which he vehemently denies but she loves. She's always thought he was going to look sexy with salt-and-pepper curls, ever since she found his very first solitary silver hair the day after he turned 25.

"Linds?"

"Yeah?"

"We've really done a number on each other over the years, haven't we?" They've blamed it on the fame, the drugs, the lifestyle; made up fairytales in their heads about the what ifs. What if we hadn't joined the band? What if we'd stayed together? What if our baby had lived? Neither wants to admit that maybe they started unraveling even before they'd ever heard of Fleetwood Mac, back when they were just a couple of not so special kids who loved and hurt each other in equal measure.

He laughs, a sad smile on his face. "Yeah, we sure have."

"Do you think that's the reason we just keep coming back to each other? Sometimes I wonder if that's what the universe is trying to tell us. Sort of a 'you broke it, now you fix it' thing. And we're going to keep ending up in the same place until we get it right."

"That might explain why none of our other relationships ever work out," he says, instantly unsure if his attempt at a joke had crossed a line. He knew her long string of boyfriends could be a sensitive subject- but hey, he hadn't fared any better and he knew it.

To his relief, she seems amused. "Guess we're either gonna die together or kill ourselves trying."

"Well, when you put it that way, it certainly sounds romantic," he deadpans.

Romantic or not, it makes a certain amount of sense to her. She was fortunate, much more so than she deserved, that she had so many people in her life who had been willing to offer her forgiveness and encouragement when she had begun reaching out to make amends. But it still felt like there was work left undone, something she couldn't identify that was keeping her from being able to make peace with the past in the way she was promised. Maybe there was a stretch of road yet to be traveled, one that could only be navigated together, and at the end of that journey she would finally be able to rest.

"You're not wrong, though." He props himself up on one elbow, watching his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the pillow. "Anyone else...they meet me and think wow, that guy's got a lot of baggage, he should probably let that go," he says, knowing he's speaking for both of them now. "But we're the only ones who get it, cause we're the ones who were there for it all."

"We're the ones who caused it. If it wasn't for us, we wouldn't be carrying around all that baggage in the first place," she says with a little rueful laugh, lifting her head so that now they're eye to eye in the darkness. "Will you be completely honest with me about something?"

"What's that?"

"What is it that you ultimately want for us? Long term, I mean. And tell me the truth. Not the edited version, or what you think I want to hear."

He nods to signal that he's thinking about it, rubbing his jaw. "I suppose it's like you said, we either make it work or die trying. I don't really have a plan B, Steph, and I don't think we'll get another chance if we screw this one up. And that's what freaks me the fuck out."

"I know, baby. It freaks me out too," she admits, because he's not the only one. She's always had someone or something else waiting in the wings in case she needed an escape, somewhere to run as soon as her current reality became too much to handle. The temptation had been there only a few months ago when she found out about Lindsey's supposed girlfriend and she was overwhelmed by how much she felt, how deeply she had fallen in such a short period of time and how quickly all those old fears came back, the memories of sobbing into a Japanese hotel pillow while he punched the wall separating their suites or being curled up alone on a train somewhere in Europe with only a stuffed panda for comfort while he sat hand in hand with someone else just a few rows away. So she understood. Lindsey was a sensitive soul just like her, hiding under aloofness and a bad temper, and all that hurt had come to the surface at the thought of potentially having to pack up and say goodbye again. Because while she was an expert at throwing people out and being thrown out herself, moving onto her next port in the storm, he held on for dear life even when things were irreparably broken.

"Then what do we do now?"

"What choice do we really have? We either give up, or we keep going and take it one day at a time. And I told you already that I'm not giving up. Not as long as we're in this together," she says, rubbing his stomach with her knuckles through the worn cotton of his old shirt. He carries his tension in his gut, the way she carries hers in her neck, and she remembers him having awful stomach pains when he was upset as far back as their mid-20s. "But I want you to talk to me about things, okay, even if you're not sure how I'll take it. If it involves both of us, then it's something we should be deciding on together."

"You're right. And I'm sorry I didn't do that." He knew there was no explanation needed, that she understood what he had been scared about. Trust was a hard fought battle for both of them, and perhaps it always would be to some degree, no matter how much they believed that the other had changed, so there was no reason to bring up a list of her past failings for the second time that night.

"I know, honey." She pauses for a moment, biting her lip. "And I'm leaving it up to you for now, whatever living situation you're more comfortable with...but I hope you'll keep spending the night here, no matter what you decide."

He reaches for her hand and kisses the back of her palm to reassure her. "That part's a given. Who else is gonna let the dogs out in the morning to piss?"

"Certainly not me! Karen's so glad you've taken over that job, you know." She takes their joined hands and clasps them against her chest. "I mean it, though. That's why I gave you that key. Because when you're ready, that door's open."

"Alright. But if I asked for your opinion, what would you say?"

"You're asking my opinion? God, you _have_ changed," she says, playfully nudging him with her foot. " Honestly? I'd tell you to find someplace near the studio and keep it as a sort of backup." As much as she wants her place to be _their_ place, she wants him to make that decision in his own time- and as tonight had shown, maybe each of them holding onto their own space for a while longer wouldn't be such a bad idea. "That way you have somewhere nearby to crash in case you're working late." A smirk crosses her face as an idea occurs to her, trailing her index finger down his chest. "Or you could swing by there in the afternoons for lunch..."

"It would probably do me good to get out of the studio, take a little break," he agrees, the two of them grinning at each other. "I'm glad I asked what you thought."

"Me too," she says, unable to hold back a yawn.

"Come on, let's get some sleep." She nods at his suggestion and yawns again, taking off her robe while he quickly undresses and gets back into bed. When they're both settled, he asks a question that's still unanswered. "Stevie? What did you mean when you said I didn't want to marry you after..."

She turns over on her side so that he can't see her face. He puts a hand on her back, but doesn't say anything or try to get any closer. "It's...I can't talk about it. Not tonight. It's late and I just. Can't."

"That's okay," he says, knowing that trying to get more out of her right now would do more harm than good. He just wishes he understood where this was coming from. "But I want you to know, I never-"

"Lindsey. Please." It was something she hadn't meant to bring up, something that slipped out as those old feelings of abandonment had so quickly snowballed. And she gets it, she really does, she can't blame him despite the hurt that she felt (still feels) over it.

"Alright, angel, we don't have to." It must have been the right thing to say, because she shifts again so that she's facing him, her forehead resting against his collarbone. "I love you."

"Love you too. Oh, I didn't set the alarm...should I set it for the usual time?" she asks, noticing the bright red numbers on the clock when she tilts her head up for a kiss.

"Hmm..." He looks over at the clock himself and notes the late hour, as well as the woman lying beside him. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt if I slept in a couple hours, would it? They'd live without me for that long."

She considers this, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smile. "Well. Are you going to be _sleeping_ , or...?"

"Oh, just you wait. You'll find out in the morning."


	20. will the whole world be warm as this (1980)

**_February 1980_ **

Lindsey couldn't keep the smile off of his face as he rode the elevator up to his (well, Stevie's) hotel suite. Despite the early hour, and despite having played for three nights in a row with very little sleep in between, he was too excited to be tired.

He opened the bedroom door and found Stevie sprawled out in the middle of the mattress, bare feet sticking out from underneath the comforter. She looked so peaceful, but he couldn't wait any longer to tell her his news. Surely she'd forgive him once she heard what he had planned for them.

They had been in Tokyo for a week and a half, and now they had the unexpected luxury of a free weekend before they moved on to their next destination. Lindsey was surprised to find that he almost didn't want to leave. He and Stevie had been inseparable ever since that first night they spent together, drinking expensive sake in bed and going for walks in a nearby park when they weren't working, and he was worried that going to a new city would somehow break the spell and Stevie would come to her senses, wondering what the hell was going on between them. For his part, he didn't really know the answer to that question. They had so far managed to avoid talking about the people they had left at home, and there had been no promises of anything in the future. He could live with that for now, content to have her smiling and flirting with him by day and to have her naked body curled up beside his at night, whispering 'love you, Linds' in her sleep when he played with her hair and kissed her forehead.

But he also wanted to do something nice for her, something that would make her happy and maybe ensure that whatever this is would last a little while longer. And he thinks he's found just the thing.

"Stevie," he called out in a singsong voice, lying down next to her and brushing some stray curls away from her face. "Wake up. I gotta tell you something."

"Wha' time's it?" she grumbled, opening her eyes to see sunlight and then pulling the comforter over her head.

"You can go back to sleep in a minute, but you're gonna want to hear this. I've got a surprise for you."

One eye popped back open. "S'prise?"

He explained that he had been talking to Mr. Saito, the dedicated concierge who had been stuck putting up with the band and their whims by virtue of having the best English among the staff members. (By talking, he means that he asked Mr. Saito, in a near-panic, 'what would you do if you wanted to impress a girl in Japan and money was no object?'. He's not going to tell Stevie that part, though). "And he asked if you'd ever been to one of the hot springs-"

"Lindsey Buckingham, if you woke me up to try convincing me to go to one of those places, I swear to God-"

"Let me finish!" he insisted. On their last trip to Japan, she had been curious about the onsens, where you could soak in water from natural hot springs that supposedly had healing properties. Then she found out that for hygiene reasons, all patrons had to be naked, and she was no longer curious. "His aunt and uncle run a little bed and breakfast type place in a village a few hours from here, and they have rooms with private baths."

That piqued her interest. "Really?"

"Really. And you know what else? He says they have over a foot of snow on the ground right now."

"Snow?" She pushed herself up on her elbows, eyes sparkling like a kid on Christmas morning. Having experienced snow for herself just a few times in her life, she had been hoping to see some in Japan, but Tokyo had only gotten rain.

"Yup. They normally don't take non-Japanese guests, but Mr. Saito convinced them to let us come for tonight-"

"Oh my God, Linds, you are the _best_!" she squealed, taking his face in her hands and giving him a big kiss.

"There's just one catch," he warned her. "His aunt and uncle are old people, y'know, pretty traditional. So he kinda told them we were married."

She shrugged, unbothered. "I can be your wife for the night...when do we leave?"

"We've got a train to catch in a few hours. Want me to wake you up when it's time? " She nodded and he kissed her again, unable to keep the grin off of his face. It had been a long time since he'd seen her so excited about something. _You did good, Buck_ , he silently congratulated himself. "Okay. I'm gonna go pack up the stuff that's still in my room and then I'll be back, alright?"

She agreed and then laid her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes, still smiling. He turned to look at her one more time before slipping out the door and heading down the hall to his own mostly unused suite.

The hotel they were staying at was brand new and luxurious, equipped with all the latest technologies. Unfortunately, that included an answering service. He groaned as he saw the blinking red light on the phone that indicated he had a new message and picked up the receiver.

He actually had four new messages, all of them from Carol. Back before he left California, he had promised to call her every day, but he hadn't been so great about keeping that promise. He blamed it on their busy schedule and the time difference. Carol wasn't convinced to begin with, and now that Sara had found out that Mick had been sampling some of the local hospitality, she was even more certain that there was something fishy going on.

"Is that why you're never around when I call? You're getting your asshole licked by some Japanese whore?"

"What the fuck? Who said anything about getting their ass- y'know, never mind. I don't even wanna know," he said, making the same face that he did the day before when he found out that he'd just eaten horse meat. "But I swear to God, Care, I haven't even gone near any whores. Have Sara ask Mick, he'll tell you. The only times I've even been out with him since we've been here is when we've all gone to dinner."

"Oh, I _will_ ask."

"Good! I hope you do, so you'll see that you're being a bitch about nothing." He knew that if there was one person he could count on to cover for him, it would be Mick. Hell, he wasn't sure if Mick had even noticed that there was anything out of the ordinary going on between him and Stevie in the first place.

Carol huffed, and he could tell that this wasn't over, but what proof did she have? None. It just sucked that he had an airtight alibi that he couldn't even use: _no, honey, I haven't even had time to look at any other woman because I've been spending all my free time in bed with Stevie!_

"I miss you so much, Care," he reassures her as he reaches into the mini-fridge and pulls out a beer. "It's lonely without you. Gonna be so good to finally see you again...so tell me about your modeling job?"

\-------------------------

Stevie watches out the train window as the scenery slowly changes, the giant hyper-modern city giving way to rice fields and snow topped farmhouses. The music in her ears coming from her new Walkman makes her feel like she's in her own little world, providing the soundtrack to a movie with a cast of one as she leaves one scene and enters another.

The last eleven days had certainly seemed like something out of a dream, with the 'real' world becoming a distant memory faster than the bullet train she's riding on. It's so easy to forget everything she left behind when she's in a place so different from home.

Even the familiar things are different. She wasn't planning on getting so close to Lindsey, especially not after how rocky their relationship had been in the fall, so it's been unexpected but wonderful ever since that first night together. And what a night it was- she can feel her cheeks getting flushed just thinking about it. They'd gotten bored waiting for their food and had a quickie, and then there were a few more rounds after they ate.

"I need to go get cleaned up," she'd said reluctantly afterward, trying to nudge him off of her.

He smirked and started kissing his way down her body as she giggled. "I can help with that."

"Honey, no, not again. I can't."

"I just want a taste," he pleaded, already settled between her legs. He licked her inner thigh and then brushed two fingers over her. "Fuck, I love seeing you like that, with my...here. Suck 'em."

He held two slick fingers up to her lips and she obediently sucked them into her mouth, closing her eyes as she tasted both of them on her tongue. "Mmm...you're gonna have to be more careful next time, you know. Better go down to that condom machine across the street and stock up."

She could tell that he wasn't thrilled about that idea and honestly, she wasn't either, but she still didn't trust him to pull out on time after that last disaster. Friggin stupid Japanese laws! What did they do the last time they were here? She knows they had sex...oh. Yeah. Well, there was no chance of getting pregnant from _that_ , was there?

But as it was, fate intervened quite nicely. She insisted that Lindsey go see the hotel doctor the next day to get a refill for his seizure meds, and she also insisted on coming along to see if she could flirt her way into getting any sort of prescriptions for herself. Turns out, she didn't even have to try.

"See, the thing is- I'm in pain. Terrible pain."

The doctor nodded. "Is it your back or your hip?"

"It's my...wait, what?" she asked, about to launch into a story about 'women problems.'

"I noticed the way you were walking with a little hitch to your step when you came in, " he explained. "Sorry, I trained as an orthopedist so I pick up on those things."

"Ohhh. Uh, it's my back. Definitely my back," she said, hoping he wouldn't comment on how her face was instantly turned scarlet.

Not only did she get painkillers, but the very generous doctor came up with some black market birth control pills smuggled in from New Zealand. "It's not quite what you'd get in America, but it'll do the trick."

All that, _and_ he tipped her off to the fact that you could get what was basically a legal form of speed just by asking for it at the pharmacy. It wasn't the greatest high, but it took the edge off when she was really craving some blow, and if you popped a couple before sex...oh, it was good.

Lindsey mumbles something in his sleep, slouching down in his seat and letting his head drop onto her shoulder. Outside, snow is starting to fall. She smiles to herself and wraps her blanket around them both.

\-------------------------

Stevie shrieks, starting to lose her footing on the slippery ground until Lindsey grabs her around the waist. "I told you it would be icy!"

The cab driver who picked them up from the train station tries not to laugh as he gets out and takes their bags out of the trunk. Lindsey thanks him and hands over some cash, lugging their suitcases on his own as he follows behind Stevie.

"Linds, can you believe this?" she asks, arms outstretched and looking toward the sky. "It's like something out of a fairytale!"

It really was. A row of narrow old fashioned houses sat at the foot of a hill with a waterfall cascading down into a tiny creek that flowed past the homes, and all of it covered by a thick blanket of snow. She snaps picture after picture as they walk across a small wooden footbridge to get to their destination. When they reach the doorway, he grabs his own camera and surreptitiously takes a shot of her marveling at the scenery.

(He doesn't know it now, but that photo will be something he'll come to treasure in years to come for reasons he doesn't yet understand.)

They're greeted at the door with bows by a smiling grey-haired couple, and they try to imitate the gesture before introducing themselves. Lindsey, knowing his Japanese is minimal, sticks to saying hello and telling them his name.

"This is well!" Stevie says, trying to compliment the house and then pointing to herself. "Pardon me! Japanese, no. English, yes."

"I know little English," Mr. Sawada, their host, tells her.

"Is that so? Happy birthday!"

"Stevie, don't." Lindsey doesn't know what exactly she's saying, but he's pretty sure she doesn't either. The couple seems delighted by her attempts to speak the language, though, and they praise her as they motion for their guests to remove their shoes and follow them upstairs.

They make their way up a little staircase, so narrow that Lindsey has to turn sideways in order to fit. He makes it to the top of the stairs and then almost falls backwards when he bumps into Stevie, who has stopped to admire a set of small painted wooden dolls. They're shaped like bowling pins but painted to look like people with no arms or legs. "Very well!"

"You like? I make," Mr. Sawada says proudly, sliding open a door covered in a thin sort of paper to reveal their room. It's neatly decorated in greys and greens, with a low table surrounded by cushions at one end and a little balcony at the other. He points out where they can leave their bags and his wife hands them porcelain cups of tea while Stevie continues to ooh and ahh over everything.

The only thing she's not crazy about is the bathroom, which has the standard Japanese-style toilet that you have to squat on the ground to use. They had been spoiled with very modern toilets in the hotel, ones with heated seats that even played music at the press of a button, but everything else here is so beautiful that she can overlook this one negative.

"Now, you go," he says, pointing toward the outside tub on the other side of the bathroom. "Two hours, we eat."

They thank the Sawadas and bow again. The whole bowing thing is still confusing to them (when do you stop?), but their hosts seem pleased with them anyway.

"You go first," Stevie tells Lindsey, the tiny bathroom only able to accommodate one person at a time. "I'm gonna take some more pictures."

She steps out on the balcony and gets photos of the creek below, the street in front of the house with antique gas lamps on the corner, and the hills (literal snow-covered hills!) behind them, not wanting to forget a thing. When she hears Lindsey leave the bathroom, she takes her turn showering off and quickly shampooing her hair, the two of them having been warned in advance that you were supposed to be clean _before_ you got in the bath.

Taking a deep breath, she tries to brace herself for the cold before opening the door. It's no use, and she squeals as the winter air hits her naked body while she dashes toward the tub.

"Shit!" The water is hot, even more so than her usual bathwater at home, and she feels tingly all over as her skin adjusts to the sudden change in temperature. "Ohhh..."

"I wish I had a video camera to record that," Lindsey says, laughing as he watches her sink down until she's completely submerged up to her chin.

"What, you didn't scream like a little girl too?"

"Nah, I was too busy worrying about my junk getting frostbitten," he admits, pretty sure he had actually felt his balls retracting into his body.

She frowns, reaching down and giving him a little squeeze. "Seems alright to me."

"What the-" He grabs her around the waist, pulling her onto his lap as she giggles hysterically. It makes him feel like his heart could leap out of his chest, seeing her this happy and carefree, and he ducks his head against her shoulder as he's suddenly hit by a wave of emotion. He just wishes he could give this to her every day.

"You okay?" she asks when she notices he's gone still for a moment. He nods and she tilts his chin up with her hand, her lips meeting his in a soft kiss. She feels his tongue against her teeth and her lips part to welcome him in, the warmth of their mouths in stark contrast to the cold air surrounding them. His hand moves up her side and she stops him as he brushes the underside of her breast. "Honey, not here..."

"No one can see us!" He nods toward the scenery outside their covered balcony.

"There could be little animals hiding in those trees."

"We've done a lot worse in front of your dogs," he says, relenting and settling for another kiss when she wrinkles up her nose and shakes her head.

She leans back against him, taking in the sight of the sun setting behind the snow-dusted trees. "Oh Linds...I don't remember the last time I saw something this perfect. I'm so glad we're here."

"I'm." There's so much he wants to say, but it's all knotted up in the lump forming in his throat. "Yeah. I am too."

\-------------------------

They stay in the water until the stars come out, floating around lazily and watching fresh snow start to fall. Then they go back inside and change into kimono-type robes that their hosts had laid out for them, squeezing into the tiny bathroom to get a picture of themselves in the mirror before Lindsey goes downstairs to check on dinner.

Stevie notices that the bedroom window is still ajar and reaches out to close it when she sees a shadow moving in the house next door. A little head pops up in the neighboring window, belonging to a pigtailed girl who's probably four or five years old.

Her face turns white when she and Stevie lock eyes, letting out a loud wail. " _GAIJIN!!_ "

"Wait!" she called out, but the little girl had already run off in hysterics. Lindsey and the Sawadas appear at the top of the stairs and she looks at them in desperation, almost in tears. "I think I scared the kid next door, but I don't know what I did..."

She tries her best to explain the situation, and Mr. Sawada laughs. "Gaijin mean...not Japanese. I think she not see American people before."

"Can you call her parents and tell her I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...to be white, I guess," she says, looking over at Lindsey helplessly. "Am I really that scary?"

"Only when you're hungover as f- you know what, I plead the fifth."

She glares at him, but lets him put his arm around her as they sit cross-legged on the floor to start dinner. They had heard that Mrs. Sawada enjoyed cooking, and so they were prepared for a big meal, but this put even some of the most massive buffets they had seen to shame. Every time they thought they were done, she would say 'right back' and return from the kitchen with another tray.

Some of the foods they recognized, like sushi, tempura, and the ever-present miso soup. Others were more of a mystery, and when Stevie would point and say 'English?', they would just shrug. They seemed to enjoy watching their guests' reaction to the unfamiliar dishes, and Stevie suspected that they were purposely giving them some strange stuff just to watch their faces, which were becoming more animated with every glass of sake they downed. And there were a lot of those. Mr. Sawada had his own (illegal) home brewing business and was eager to show off his wares, refilling their cups while they weren't looking even after they had politely refused.

Lindsey was demonstrating the fine art of sake bombs when Stevie saw a light switch on in the house next door. The same little girl from before peeked out from around the curtain, cautiously watching Stevie and then lifting her hand up in a wave. Stevie tried to wave back, but by then she had already disappeared again.

"You have children?" Mrs. Sawada asked her, observing the interaction.

Stevie shook her head. "No, no children."

"Why? You not like?"

"I love kids," Stevie assured her. "I want two or three someday, but we're so busy."

The older woman nodded and said something in Japanese to her husband, who laughed as he looked at Lindsey. "She say make your wife happy and give her baby. Soon!"

"Uh," Lindsey said, almost choking on his drink. "I...I'll try."

\-------------------------

Well, he certainly took that advice to heart, Stevie thought.

They had settled down for the night in their futon on the floor, the sleeping arrangement reminiscent of their old LA apartment. "Remember when Ginny used to snuggle in between us?"

"I do, but I have better memories than that," Lindsey said, kissing the back of her neck as he spoons her from behind.

"We really loved each other, didn't we?"

He was surprised by her candor and decided that the alcohol must be making her overly sentimental. "Yeah. We did. We really loved each other."

"Linds?"

Before he could answer, she picked up his hand from where it was resting around her waist and kissed it, first his palm and then his fingertips. Then she rested it on the top of her breast, right over her heart.

"You...can I?" She hummed in approval and he moved his hand a little lower, thumb brushing back and forth over her nipple through the silk of her nightgown. "Think you can be quiet?"

"Think you can?" she whispered back, shifting in his arms to face him. They have plenty of experience being 'quiet' in dressing rooms and venue supply closets, of course, but a silent house with paper-covered doors is a new challenge.

He nodded and she kissed his neck, alternating between soft pecks and longer, more sensual open mouthed kisses as the stubble on his chin tickled her cheek. She smoothed her hands over his bare chest, fingers scratching lightly over the hair covering his sternum. When her nails raked over his nipple, he groaned and she silenced him with her lips on his, tugging a little on his bottom lip with her teeth to make sure she got her point across. "Mmmf...I think that's cheating. You know that drives me crazy..."

"Oh? You want me to stop?" she asked, playing with the waistband of his boxers.

"Fuck no." He pushed her nightgown up until it's bunched under her arms as she reached for his fly and took him out. It gave the whole thing an added spark of excitement, groping each other under the covers while they're still mostly clothed, the sensation of every touch heightened by not being able to see what their hands are doing. His hand slipped inside her lace panties and his eyes widened when he feels how wet she is. "Shit...Stevie. Need you."

She stroked his cock firmly from base to tip, eyes closed and taking in the feeling of him hardening in her hand. "I'm right here, baby, take me."

They both wiggled out of their underwear and Lindsey rolled her onto her back, reaching down to slip one finger inside her while his thumb circles her clit.

"Okay?" he mouthed and she nodded to signal that she was ready.

They rocked together slowly, her palms on his ass and her legs hooked around his to draw him in as deeply as possible. Neither one made a sound beyond soft gasps and long exhales, so they focused on watching one another's face for a reaction, their eyes searching each other out through the darkness.

"So beautiful." He lowered his body enough to take one of her nipples into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, repeating the action on the other side, then rose up on his hands again for better leverage as he moved inside her. He dragged out each thrust as long as he could, pulling almost all the way out and then circling his hips once he was buried to the hilt again. "That's it, Steph, just feel it...nono," he pleaded when she arched her back and closed her eyes. "Look at me."

She kept her gaze trained on him even as they reached their peak together, not turning her eyes away until he collapsed on top of her. He kissed the corner of her mouth and started to pull out when she grabbed onto his shoulders to stop him. "Don't...not yet."

He looked down at her and realized that she was shaking slightly. "Are you alright?" he asked, pushing her damp bangs back from her forehead.

"Yeah," she whispered, still a little breathless. "That was just. Intense."

"I know." He rested his head on the pillow beside her, content to be holding her close to him and breathing in the sweet scent of her skin. "I know."

\-------------------------

He awakes to the sound of soft sniffles and realizes that Stevie's no longer beside him. When he squints, he sees her sitting on the floor near the window with her knees drawn up to her chest. "Hey. Steph...what's wrong?"

She shakes her head and hastily wipes at her eyes, face turned away from him. When she starts to rise to her feet, he puts a gentle hand on her shoulder to stop her and sits down so that they're side by side.

"Will you tell me what's bothering you?" She shakes her head again but allows him to pull her in closer, so he surmises that it must not be something he did (for once). But what else could've happened between the time they fell asleep and now? "Did...was it a bad dream?"

"No."

Just a one syllable word, but it's a start. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No."

"You're not still upset about that little girl, are you?" he asks, trying to get a smile out of her. "Cause you're not _that_ scary, I promise."

She bites her lip, but he can see the corner of her mouth turn upward. "No."

"Then what is it, angel?"

She finally turns toward him and he thinks that maybe she's ready to talk. But instead she rests her head on his shoulder, fingers clutching onto the back of his t-shirt, and the only way he knows that she's still awake is the feeling of her silent tears soaking the worn cotton. He holds her and lets her cry, humming in a barely audible voice to comfort her until finally he hears her speak.

"It's perfect. Everything is. And that's the problem."

She raises her head but still doesn't face him, staring out the window to watch the falling snow. "I wish I could just freeze this moment, right here, and we could live in it forever. But I know life doesn't work that way. It can't last."

"Oh Steph..." He closes his own eyes and frowns, not knowing what he should do. He knows what he _wants_ to do, to tell her that she's wrong and he'll prove it to her, he'll find a way to _make_ it last. That's what his younger self would've done, acted on his first instinct to promise that he'd give her everything she wanted.

But this time he won't. There's a measure of self protection in it; he can't lay himself bare and open himself up to that kind of eventual rejection one more time. His skin has grown thinner over the years, he thinks, or maybe it's just become a tenuous collection of knitted-together scar tissue. Whatever it is, he's not sure it can weather another blow. Even if he was certain that he was strong enough, though, he also knows his suffering would be for naught. He might be more fragile as time passes, but he's also smarter- or at least, more realistic. He can't stop time any more than he can change the past and all the myriad ways it affects their lives today. They could leave the band, leave their significant others, leave the country, and yet it still wouldn't give her what she wants. Right now they can detach from the rest of the world, the way they have been since they arrived in Japan, but they're living on borrowed time. He knows it and she does too.

So he does the only thing he's able to do. He holds her a little tighter and prays for this moment to last as long as it can. 


	21. just now finding out what it was all about (1997)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: discussion of abortion, death, and self harm. I know that sounds brutal, but I promise you it ends optimistically!

**_July 1997_ **

"Babe, we need to talk about something."

Lindsey knew that his face must have looked terrified, because she quickly reassured him that "it's nothing bad, I promise. I probably should've worded that better."

"You weren't lying about the doctor, were you?"

"No! It's not about that. I mean, I guess it kinda is, but I'm not sick. I promise," she says as she sits down beside him and reaches for his hand.

He'd been expecting this ever since he got home that evening. She'd gone to the doctor that afternoon, just a standard pre-tour checkup for insurance reasons, and he could tell that she was preoccupied from the moment she kissed him hello. He'd instantly asked if something had happened at the appointment, and she'd assured him that she'd been given a spotless bill of health but he wasn't convinced. He even pulled Karen aside to ask her if she knew anything.

"What makes you think I'd tell you even if I did?" she chided him. But she went on to say that she had faxed the paperwork to the promoter's office and there was nothing worrying in it, but "she _is_ acting strange, she has been ever since we got in the car to go home. And then she told me I could leave early tonight."

That was perhaps the scariest part to him, that she obviously wants to talk about something she doesn't want Karen eavesdropping on. Karen knows everything. Hell, sometimes he thinks Karen can read minds. So if she doesn't know...

"It's okay, angel. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

She sits back and presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "I just didn't think I'd have to have this conversation. But I wouldn't feel right if I wasn't honest with you about it."

"Okay, now I'm getting nervous," Lindsey says, seeing her struggling more and more to get the words out.

"Shit. Alright." _You're scaring him_ , she tells herself, _just do it before he thinks you have a fatal disease or a secret husband or something equally terrible._ "So today at the doctor's, she was going through the standard list of questions, and she asked me what kind of birth control I'm on."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." It was something they hadn't given much thought to. She had gone off the pill once she got out of rehab because it was making it more difficult to lose weight, and it wasn't really needed when her closest relationship was with her vibrator. Once it was clear that she and Lindsey were going to be sleeping together, she'd mentioned to him that she didn't want to go on it again and risk gaining the weight back when she didn't think it was necessary. She hadn't had a period since last fall and she'd heard that you were basically infertile after 45 anyway. Neither of them liked the idea of using condoms, so they just did...well, nothing. "And, uh. I guess I might've been underestimating my odds a little. I mean, it's not very likely at all. But it's not impossible. So she said that if I _don't_ want to take that chance, I should probably figure something out."

Lindsey's eyes grow wide. He had been unsure about what he was going to hear, but this definitely hadn't been one of the possibilities that he'd considered. "Oh. I'm."

"I know. That's pretty much what I said." Stevie watches him carefully, the emotion evident on his face even as he blankly stares straight ahead. She knows he doesn't like to talk about, or even think about, these kinds of things. After what happened on the night of her birthday, she had been hopeful that maybe that door had been opened, but that hadn't seemed to be the case. The only part he ever brought up was the fights they'd had, and that's one subject she'd rather forget altogether (but not her baby, she never wants to forget her).

She can see him getting more and more uncomfortable and finally decides to break the silence. "I'm sorry. I know this is hard. But I didn't want to keep it to myself because it involves you too."

"No, I'm glad you did," he assures her, instantly snapping out of his mini-trance. He needs to be the strong one here, but how? He can't think of a single thing to say that wouldn't potentially upset her. Maybe it was best to let her lead. "Well. How do you feel about...all of this?"

He was afraid that she'd accuse him of trying to get out of having to talk to her, but instead she seems to appreciate being asked about her own feelings. "Honestly? I'm not sure what to think. Like I said...I assumed I was past having to worry about it. And I'm realistic, I know that the chances are very small. But it was still surprising to hear that."

"Yeah, that's...understandable." When Stevie had originally told him that they didn't need to bother with all that, he'd been glad because it would save them from some potentially tricky conversations. Specifically, this one right here.

"Do you ever think about it? Having kids? Not with me specifically, just...in general."

His first reaction is _I never thought about having them without you._ His response was more measured. "I haven't for a long time."

"Oh."

"No, I didn't mean it like...it's just that it never really came up. The only women I were ever serious with, they didn't want them and I was okay with that. It was easier not having to think about it. And I guess I was just lucky that I never had any, ah, accidents besides what happened with Carol, and I'm still not even sure how much she was telling the truth."

"Never?" she asks. "Not even any close calls?"

"If there were, I didn't know about them."

"Wow. Then I guess you were fortunate," she says, acting mildly mystified by how he managed such a feat.

"I guess I was." He knows the answer to this question but is fairly certain she wouldn't remember telling him. And he might be making a mistake by asking, might shut her down altogether, but he needs to know in order to figure out how to proceed. "But you were...you've been pregnant since then."

"Yeah. Twice. But I found out early both times and I got it taken care of right away." She shrugs as if to say 'and that was that.'

"Ah." He knows better, knows that this blase attitude is a front, but he'll play along. "What did the fa- the father," he quickly corrects, not wanting to make any assumptions that she might take offense to, "think about it?"

"There were two. One was really sweet, he told me he understood and it was my decision and he'd support me no matter what. And he did, he drove me to the appointment, took care of me afterwards, all of that. But the other," she says, eyes narrowing, "I never told him. We had already split up by that time and I knew he wouldn't want it anyway, so I just didn't bother."

His curiosity is threatening to get the best of him, trying to figure out who was who, but he knows better than to press her for more details than she's willing to give.

A sudden gulping sob instantly pulls him from his thoughts. She's got her eyes squeezed shut, head bowed as she shakes it back and forth. "Hey, Stevie...it's okay. It's okay."

"I know it sounds t-terrible, like I don't care." He holds an arm out, a cautious offering, and he's surprised when she doesn't hesitate to lean in and clutch him tightly.

"No. Absolutely not," he says in a firm tone, but he's not sure that she can hear him. Normally he wouldn't be so insistent, but he knows that this is something that she needed to hear and he needed to say for years now. "Angel. Look at me?"

She blinks, pushing her hair back from her face. "Linds..."

"Nobody thinks you're terrible. And if they do, fuck 'em. I know the truth, alright? I know you're not. And I know that none of this-"

"It's not that I didn't want them," she stammers, abruptly cutting him off. "But both times, when I found out...I panicked. All I thought was...I can't go through that again, I can't take that chance. I hadn't gotten sober yet and- maybe it was selfish. But it's not that I didn't want them."

"It's not selfish. You'd been through something really fucking traumatic, and it's understandable. If it was me, I'd have done the same thing." Her head tilts to the side, frowning in slight disbelief, and he nods. He won't explain further, doesn't want to tell her about a time years ago when his then-girlfriend mentioned that maybe she wanted to be a mother after all. He shut her down right away, threatened that if he found out she was pregnant he'd throw her out of the house the next day and that she could take him to court for child support but he would never, ever have a single thing to do with that kid. They never talked about it again. "I always felt like...I didn't think I'd be able to love another baby the way that I...you know? I'd never be able to fully love them, and how fair is that to some innocent kid?"

"At least you recognized that. You didn't try to replace her with someone else. Because lemme tell you- it doesn't work."

Once again he doesn't know how to respond, but he's afraid that if he doesn't say anything, she'll get self conscious, and that's the last thing he wants when she's finally opening up to him. "Do you, ah. Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I knew it was a mistake, at least at first. My mom, she tried, she said 'I know what you're doing, and you're wrong. It's not going to bring Robin back and it's not going to bring your daughter back either.' But I wouldn't listen. I was so messed up that the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that it was meant to be. Here was a baby without a mother, and I was a mother without a baby. If I had to marry someone I didn't love to make it happen, then so be it," she says, staring down at her hands and shaking her head at the memory. "It got to the point where I honestly believed that Robin had sacrificed herself for me because she knew how much I wanted a family. So how could I back out and say no, I'm not going to go through with it? What other option did I have? "

"Steph..." He should've been there. Yet again, one more time when she needed him and he was nowhere to be found. He knew about it, of course, heard the news when Carol opened up the mail and found a wedding invitation that cut him to the core. That was it? Not even three years earlier she was engaged to _him_ , carrying _his_ daughter, but now she was marrying someone else and apparently didn't even think he merited to hear the news over the phone. Just sent him this little white embossed card like he was some old college friend or a distant cousin.

He didn't RSVP. He went 'out for a drive' and didn't come home for a week.

"And then here I was, supposed to be somebody's mother, and I wasn't even good at it. I was too fucked up to be...I was so paranoid about everything. Matthew would cry and I would just lose it because I was afraid something was terribly wrong. I had nightmares every night where I accidentally killed him. The only way to stop them was to drink until I passed out...try taking care of a baby like that. I was a horrible mother."

He wants to ask her why she never asked anyone for help, or why she never talked to him about this before, but he already knows the answer. She had spent so much time insisting that this marriage was what she really wanted, and her stubborn pride wasn't going to allow her to admit that she was unhappy. But it went deeper than that and once again, he knows why.

He thinks about an incident back in Phoenix a few years ago, how she had locked herself in her bathroom and refused to come out, and when he threatened to kick the door down she announced that she had 'a pair of scissors pointed right at my fucking throat and if you try, I will jam it into my neck. Don't you think I won't!'

"Stevie. You don't need to do that. Put 'em down and let's just talk, okay?" he said, making his voice as gentle as possible.

"Why should I? Why should I do _anything_ for you other than make you watch me bleed out? Because that's what you deserve."

Cold sweat streamed down his face and he balled his hands into fists, blunt fingernails digging into his skin to serve as a distraction, trying to fight off the tears the same way he did at his dad's funeral. Only then, he had Stevie at his side rather than behind a locked door. She had cried openly throughout the service and although he was outwardly angry about it, on the inside he was grateful to her for showing the emotion that he couldn't. And now he had to be the stoic one again, the one who stayed calm because they couldn't both fall apart at once. "Then don't do it for me. Do it for your family."

"They'd probably be relieved if I was dead. All I do is cause problems for them."

He knew that was the furthest thing from the truth, no matter how strained her relationship with them was right then, but he also knew better than to argue. So he tried another tactic, thinking of the doll that Stevie had kept cradled in her arms almost constantly since he arrived two days prior. As much as he hated encouraging her delusions, what alternative did he have? "Then what about Rebecca? She needs you."

He didn't even have time to take a step back from the door before it flew open and she lunged at him with the ferocity of a wounded animal, punching him squarely in the jaw.

" _I am NOT a bad mother!_ "

Staggering backwards in shock and rubbing his face, he saw her retreating into the bathroom to pick Rebecca up from where she had been left on the closed toilet seat. "Stevie! Jesus, I-"

"If I die, she does too!" she shouted, clutching Rebecca to her chest with one arm around the back of her head as if shielding her from having to hear this. "She stays with me no matter what and I will _not_ let you take her away!"

The door slammed shut again. Inside, he could hear her repeating _it'sokayit'sokayit'sokay._

It wasn't okay.

He stepped out into the hallway and cried.

"Linds? Honey," she says softly, touching his forearm, and it's only then that he realizes he's not just crying in his memories.

"Shit. I'm sorry." He tries to pull away but she's not having it, rubbing his shoulder and murmuring reassurances. "No, you don't- I'm so sorry, Steph. For everything. If I hadn't..."

"You don't have to apologize. There's nothing you could have done." It's a half truth. At the time, in the days leading up to her doomed wedding, she had been counting on him coming to stop her. As much as she had been so sure that she was doing the right thing, there was another part of her that had constructed an elaborate fantasy in which he begged her not to go through with it. He told her that he loved her and he was sorry, that she didn't need to do this because they could get married like they had planned and have another baby, a family of their own.

Perhaps not surprisingly, none of that ever happened. By the time she spoke to Lindsey again, she was already on her way to getting divorced, and they just never mentioned it beyond her telling him that it was a mistake and it didn't work out. He said he was sorry, although she knew he didn't mean it, and that was that. But for years she resented him for not being there, even though on some level she understood. Why would he have wanted any of that with her after everything that had already happened between them?

She discussed it with her therapist last year, how it was unreasonable to expect him (or anyone) to come rescue her, especially when she wasn't willing to actually talk to him about what was going on and what she needed. So she wasn't angry about it anymore, and telling him all of it now would only make him feel guilty about something he wasn't responsible for and couldn't change. She's trying to be more honest these days, but she knows that part of making amends is knowing which truths are better left unspoken.

"Stevie? I hope you know this by now, but what happened with Samantha, it doesn't mean you were a bad mot-"

"Don't, Lindsey," she warns him.

"No. This is important, alright, cause it's something I've needed to say for a long time, that it wasn't your fault-"

"Shut _up_ ," she says, moving away from him and clutching the back of her head like she's been hit. "I don't want to talk about it, I told you-"

"I blamed you when I shouldn't have and I -"

"Will you _shut up_?" she cries out in desperation, shoving uselessly at his arm. "You were right, okay, I killed her! And you were right to hate me for it, because I will never, ever forgive myself. Ever. So don't lie to me." She doesn't want to hear retractions and she doesn't want to hear apologies and she never wants to hear him say it wasn't her fault ever again, not when everything that's been said can be unsaid in an instant. "I'm sorry...I'm so fucking sorry..."

She slumps down against him, tears soaking his shirt as she repeats the words over and over in the same way that she did 17 years ago in a hospital bed. He remembers how he had his hand pressed against her belly, desperate to feel the kicks she had excitedly described to him before it was too late.

He never did.

And just like before, he wishes he could shoulder all the pain on his own and spare her from it. He really believed it back then when he told her it wasn't her fault and there was nothing more that she could have done. But over the years, resentment crept in as they grew further apart, and it became easier to blame her than to sit with his own feelings of failure. By the time everything fell apart, he had done almost a complete about face. He wanted to be _sure_ that she was suffering, that she felt the loss every bit as acutely as he did.

Now they're back to where they started from, both more than a little worse for wear, and he's once again wanting to protect her and take it all away. He needs to tell her that he doesn't hold her responsible, that the end result was out of their hands and they made the right choice (the only choice) regardless of how they'd fucked up before. But she won't let him.

So he does the same thing that he did on the night of her birthday. He holds onto her and he rubs her back and he tells her he loves her over and over through his own tears. "Love you. I love you so much..."

It doesn't feel like it's enough, though. A year ago she told him that 'you can't go back and change things that happened, so you make amends by showing people that _you've_ changed.' He wants to prove to her that he's different, he's not the guy from a decade ago who wished her dead at the top of his lungs and then walked out of her life for the next half-dozen years.

"Stevie?" he says gently once she's quieted down to nothing but the occasional sniffle. " I wasn't telling the truth about something before. At least, not all of it."

"You weren't?" she asks, looking up at him warily.

"When I said I didn't think I could love another baby. I meant it, but...I've always known it would be different if it was ours." He swallows hard, then sighs. "I guess I just could never see myself having a family with anyone but you."

"Even after..."

"Yeah. I'm...part of me's never stopped hoping we'd get another chance. I still haven't." His voice is soft, softer than the sound of his heartbeat echoing in his head.

He knows she wants a child of her own, can see it in the way her face transforms when she talks about Jesse and the way she dotes on her dogs. She might pretend that she was relieved to be 'past having to think about it,' but he recognizes that for the coping mechanism that it is. It's easier to accept that something's not going to happen than it is to keep hoping in the face of all the what ifs and the if onlys, knowing all the possible ways that it could end in heartbreak and begin the cycle of guilt and self-recrimination all over again. Especially for her. And he knows with absolute certainty that she's not going to open up to him about any of it unless he puts himself out there first.

"You mean that you..."

"I wanna be with you. That's the only thing I really _need_." His breathing feels choppy, like he just walked offstage after an extended encore. "But if that's something you want in the future, then...yeah."

Her voice is so innocent and disbelieving that it almost makes him want to cry again. "You trust me?"

"God, yes. Absolutely." As much as trust is sometimes in short supply with them, this is one thing he has no doubt about. "You would be an amazing mother."

"I want to be."

"You are. No one could've loved our little girl more than you did. Even when I was off being an asshole...you loved her from the very beginning."

"So did you." She shakes her head as he opens his mouth to argue. "It might've taken you a while to 'get your shit together'," she says, remembering the words he used at the time, "but I know you loved her. And I know you wanted her. Promise."

He hadn't reacted like a champ at first, that was for damn sure. But once he was in, he was all in, up until the moment they had to physically pry his hand off of her belly as they wheeled her away. Things fell apart again after that, but she understands now that he was grieving as much as she was.

' _Why the fuck do you even care now? You never gave a shit about either of us then. I'm sure you were relieved-' and before she could finish that sentence, there was a hand around her throat._

It's why she was expecting him to react very differently to her announcement today, like somewhere along the lines of telling her that they weren't going to have sex again until she got her tubes tied, impending menopause be damned. She assumed that he was like her, coming to accept that parenthood just wasn't her destiny.

Turns out that he _was_ like her, both with that little stubborn voice inside that wouldn't go away, the one that said 'but maybe...'

And he trusts her. Whether he's truly forgiven her or not, he trusts her enough to give her another chance.

"It probably won't be our four babies and four dogs," she says, thinking back to the life they used to imagine for themselves when they would sit on the beach and daydream about living in one of the palatial homes overlooking the surf.

He chuckles quietly at the memory. "At this point, I would be content with one kid and two dogs."

"Seriously?" She knows how much he always wanted a big family and how eager he was to get started on it even when they were living off of her parents' charity and her waitressing tips. She remembers him telling her that 'it'd all work out,' which she thought was pretty easy for him to say when _he_ wasn't the one who had to lug the baby around for nine months. _'We have time, Lindsey, we can wait.'_

"Seriously. Hell, we could even have Karen take the dogs permanently," he suggests, but her glare lets him know how she feels about that suggestion. "Hey, just a thought!"

"Does it bother you that we probably wouldn't be able to do it, ah. The natural way?"

"Not at all," he assures her. "We've still got plenty of other options and we've got time to figure out what we want."

She stretches her legs out across the couch, leaning back against him. "Well. We don't have _that_ much time. I don't want to be 80 years old at their high school graduation."

"You'd still be the best looking mom there," he says, and she rolls her eyes but lets him kiss her on the forehead anyway. "But look at it like this, we know our lives are already booked up for the next year, so we can think about it until then. We don't have to make any decisions tonight."

"We didn't decide what we're going to do for now," she reminds him. "Even though it's still not likely at all that anything would happen, not when I don't know for sure if I'll even have a period again or not, but...I just assumed you'd have a strong opinion about it."

He thinks about the number of times they had unprotected sex back when they were young and fertile, and how they managed to only get knocked up once (while they thought they were being 'careful', oh the irony). That's a pretty solid track record. And if she _did_ somehow get pregnant this time around, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world- would it? "Well. Is it dangerous? I mean, if you did..."

"No, no. Older moms are always higher risk, but she said I'm perfectly healthy. And that what happened before...she didn't seem concerned that it would happen again."

He nods, considering this. "Honestly- I say we just keep doing what we've been doing for now. If you do get your period at some point, then we'll see how we feel then. As long as you're okay with that."

"I am. That's kinda what I was thinking all along, actually."

They both go quiet after that, the heaviness of their conversation leaving them both drained, but it's not an uncomfortable silence. He reclines against the arm of the couch and she curls up on her side on top of him, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths to re-center herself.

He trusts her. He still wants a family with her.

"Linds? Even though it was hard...I'm glad we talked about all this."

"Me too," he says, fingers lazily combing through her hair.

"I just. I wish we would've done it a long time ago."

"I know. So do I."


	22. I come back to the place you are (1980)

**_February 1980_ **

"How much do you want it?"

Stevie whines in reply, clenching her thighs together to try to get some relief, but Lindsey shoves his knee in between her legs to stop her. "Nooo..."

"That's not an answer." They had barely gotten through the door of their hotel room after the show before they were frantically pulling off each other's clothes as they rushed toward the bedroom. Now he had her pushed up against the floor-to-ceiling window, his body pressed against her back to hold her still. "You think anyone can see you?"

She let out another loud cry, the contrast of the chilly glass and the overheated body behind her making her feel even more lightheaded than the pills she'd been popping all night. Her nipples were painfully hard from the cold and her skin was covered in goosebumps but Lindsey seemed unbothered, moving so that his erection was nestled against her backside. "Linds. Hurry up and fuck me."

"Maybe I should bend you over that table and fuck you out there," he muses, nodding toward the small balcony table on the other side of the window. "But I don't want anyone else watching you like that. Because you're mine. Right?"

"Right," she agrees breathlessly as he sinks down to his knees, kissing the backs of her thighs. He squeezes her ass cheeks and then kisses the dip at the base of her spine.

"My little slut," he repeats, letting his finger trail over the cleft of her ass and watching her shiver. "All mine."

"Yours," she says back to him in a voice full of desire, and he can't hold back any more.

"Get on the bed." She scrambles up onto the mattress, legs parted so that he has a perfect view of her slick pink center. "Shit...you want your pussy licked?"

"Mmm," she hums, and she certainly doesn't seem opposed, but...is he missing something?

"Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah," she assures him. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, looking a little guilty. "I just thought you were going to maybe. You know." When he doesn't catch on right away, she shakes her head in embarrassment. "Never mind, it's okay."

The lightbulb finally switches on in his brain a second later, delayed by all the blood in his head having rushed southward. He ducks his head down beside hers and nips at her earlobe. "You want me to fuck your ass, pretty girl?"

She nods timidly, still biting her lip.

"Fuck. Alright," he says, suddenly a bit dazed. "Um. Do you have..."

"In my makeup bag." He almost trips over his own feet in his haste to get to the bathroom, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths to get his shit together before he starts tossing aside brushes and bottles in search of the little tube of KY he finds hiding at the bottom of the bag.

"I got-" he stops, completely forgetting what the hell he was doing as he comes back into the bedroom. She's lying there on her back with her eyes closed, fucking herself slowly with two fingers. "Jesus."

She opens her eyes and gives him a lazy smirk like she didn't know he was watching her. "Oh. Hi."

"You didn't have to stop," he says, but he gratefully accepts when she holds her glistening fingers up to his mouth.

She pretends to be aghast. "Like I'm going to let you get away with not doing any of the work here? I don't think so!"

"When have I ever slacked off when it comes to you?" She hesitates and he pokes her in the side, right above the hip where he knows she's ticklish, and she laughs and bats his hand away.

God. He's so in love with her.

He traps her hand in between both of his, kissing her knuckles. "You ready, babe?"

" _You_ definitely are," she teases, stroking his hard cock with her free hand. "Just, uh. Go slow. It's been a while."

"How long?"

He worries she'll be put off by his impulsive question, but she just pats his thigh. "Well...actually, the last time we were in Japan."

"That was a good night. What I remember of it, anyway," he adds, the two of them trading knowing smiles. "But you never...with anyone else?"

"No. You told me not to, didn't you?"

He did. It had been during the dying days of their relationship, back in Sausalito when he turned up at her condo late one Thursday night with a baggie of coke and a bottle of rum. He had started fingering her ass while he was eating her out and soon she was face down on her silk sheets, moaning into the pillow as he took her from behind.

He tried to focus on how good she felt, how tight she was around him and how she said his name in a breathy moan when he rubbed her clit. But part of him was preoccupied by another thought, the same one that had haunted him for months whenever they'd ended up in bed together: _what if this is the last time?_

"I'm the only one who's ever had you like this," he said, slapping her ass lightly.

"Ohh," she gasped when she lifts her hips and he sinks deeper inside her. "You are."

"And I'm the only one who ever will."

He saw her right hand, the one that had been playing with her nipple, stop moving. "Lindsey."

"I know you're fucking other people," he said, the thought of someone else inside her making his movements sharper, a little less cautious. "Do whatever the hell you want. But not this."

"Lindsey. Just shut up and fuck me or leave."

He did, and when they were done she lit up a joint and threw him out. Not really the actions of someone who took his words to heart, so this comes as quite the shock. "I, uh- yeah. But I didn't think you..."

"Well, I did," she murmurs, moving her hand away and curling in on herself shyly. It wasn't really just because of what he said- he'd also been the first person who'd gone down on her, and she hadn't given that up once they split. (Even if no one else was as good at it as he was). But letting someone do _that_ seemed so much more intimate than oral or even just having regular sex, and she hadn't been with anyone who she felt that close to _and_ who she trusted to care about making it good for her. "I mean, it's not like I didn't have the chance. I could have. I just didn't want to."

He clenches his jaw, trying not to think about which creep(s) she could be referring to. She said no and that was what mattered. He wants to say 'good, cause you're mine,' but decides that maybe he shouldn't risk it, not when he's already said it once tonight and gotten her to say it back to him, so instead he just kisses in between her breasts and smiles. "I'll be careful."

His mouth trails down her body, nipping lightly just below her belly button, and she wiggles her hips in approval. He wonders if anyone else has ever figured out how much she likes that. He hopes not.

"C'mere," he beckons, sitting back against the headboard and crossing his legs before she straddles his lap. It's a bit of an awkward angle but he doesn't mind, not when he can keep kissing her with their bodies pressed together.

He nibbles on her neck and shoulder, one lubed up finger dipping in between her ass cheeks and circling her tight entrance. She sighs and focuses on relaxing her lower body, her hips rocking back and forth so that her breasts rub against his chest and her clit makes contact with the underside of his dick. "Ohhh, honey...that feels so good."

She loops her arm around his shoulders to steady herself as she kisses him. Their noses bump together and she giggles, tracing his cheekbones with her thumb. Then she kisses him again, tongue nudging at his lips until they part and allow her entrance, exploring his mouth as slowly as his finger moving inside her.

"More," she says, groaning when she feels a second fingertip carefully working her open. She holds onto him tighter, lifting her ass a little to accommodate him, and it puts her at the perfect position to rub herself along the length of his cock.

He reaches between them and palms one of her breasts, squeezing it before rolling her nipple between his fingers. She feels amazing like this, her drenched center against his dick and the sheen of sweat on their torsos creating just the right amount of friction as they move together. "Steph. Baby."

"Linds," she says in a ragged voice, not slowing her pace even as her thigh muscles are screaming at her. She'll feel it later, but right now her full concentration is dedicated to moving up and down in time with his fingers as he fucks her. "I- I need..."

Her eyes are wide and her stare feels like it's bathing his skin in warmth. Their faces are so close together that they're almost touching, close enough to hear every little gasp and sigh, and it's too much. He tries to pull away as soon as he notices that familiar tightening in his balls, but with her arms and legs both wrapped around him, he has no escape. " _Fuck_!"

"Oh my God," she drawls lazily, head dropping to his shoulder.

"Shit, I'm sorry." He's careful as he pulls his fingers out of her, but he's visibly annoyed with himself, swearing under his breath and rubbing his face with his free hand. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, baby. That was actually really hot, watching you get off like that," she purrs, reaching for the kleenex box on the table beside the bed. She wipes off his stomach and tosses the tissue aside, fingernail running over his nipple, and she smiles when he can't suppress a shiver.

"But I was gonna-"

"Sssh. I wanted to make you feel good too, alright? And you still can...unless you don't think you're going to be able to get it up a second time..."

"Oh, just watch me!" He pushes her onto her back as she erupts into giggles, legs flailing in the air. Reaching for the little tube on the nightstand, he slicks up his fingers once again and hooks her knees over his shoulders, unable to resist admiring how she looks with his come streaking her skin. "You love it when I come all over you, don't you?"

"Uh huh," she says, lifting her hips closer to his face as his finger slips back inside her. She has no doubt that he'll be able to get it up again soon, especially after taking some samples from her prescription stash earlier that night, but having him go down on her will definitely speed things along. She remembers the first time he did it, how he literally came in his pants without even getting a hand on his cock, and how he had tried to hide it out of embarrassment. She, on the other hand, was more than a little turned on, especially given how nervous she had been about letting someone do _that_ to her.

"What are you smiling about?" he asks, mouthing at her inner thigh.

"You."

The tips of his ears turn pink as he lowers his head again, giving her one long lick before lapping at her center greedily with the tip of his tongue. "Mmm. You're so wet for me."

"Only for you," she says, arching upward toward his mouth and stretching her arms over her head, her hands dangling over the edge of the bed.

He looks up at her once more from between her spread legs and smirks, mouth glistening. "Then I can't let any of it go to waste, can I?"

Soon she's gripping onto the back of his head while he sucks on her clit, never letting up as he fucks her ass with three fingers. It's _so_ good and she feels _so_ full and she's _so_ close-

"Lindsey!" she cries out in frustration when he abruptly stops his ministrations. "What the hell?"

"I'm ready now," he says with a shrug, gesturing toward his once more fully hard length.

"But I was just about to -" She scrunches up her nose and raises her hand like she's going to pretend to throw a punch, but he grabs her wrist and holds it behind her back, pulling her close so that they're practically nose to nose.

"I'm the one who decides when you come. Not you."

"Fuck," she whispers under her breath, and he nods curtly as he lets her arm go.

"Which way do you want it?" She pauses, then scoots backward so that she's on her hands and knees at the edge of the bed. "You sure?"

She nods impatiently as he gets up and goes to stand behind her. He'd rather do it face to face, both because it's easier to tell if he's hurting her and because there's nothing sexier to him than watching her expressions while he's fucking her, but he'll give the lady what she wants.

He makes sure he's well lubed up, pouring a little more onto his thumb and rubbing in circles around her entrance. " _Lindsey_. C'mon, I'm tired of waiting... "

"Oh yeah?" One hand on her hip, he pushes forward carefully and then stops once the head of his dick is all the way inside her. She inhales, takes a deep breath out, and then nods for him to continue.

He leans over as he keeps going, taking one of her nipples between his fingers and pinching it, then giving it a little tug. "Ahh...again."

He pulls on the hardened bud more firmly and she shudders. With his length almost completely inside her now, he starts rocking his hips slowly back and forth, cupping one of her ass cheeks in his palm.

"Touch me, baby," she urges, and he moves his left hand down between her legs to stroke at her clit. Not used to using this hand that way, especially while moving at the same time, his finger accidentally grazes her entrance and she moans. "Oh god, yes. Do it."

"You want me to..." They'd done the opposite, with him running a finger up and down the cleft of her ass while he fucked her in the regular way, but never like that.

She lifts her hips to meet him, urging him deeper inside her. "Yes. Please."

" _Jesus_ ," he says as he slides his middle finger into her pussy, surprised by how she suddenly feels tighter around him. "You like that?"

"Yesss."

"You feel so good, angel. Fucking incredible." He crooks his finger slightly and she moans again, the vibration from the sound seeming to ripple through her entire body.

"God, right there. Don't stop," she pleads when the heel of his hand brushes against her clit. She's starting to feel dizzy from so many different sensations, struggling to keep from collapsing onto her stomach, but it's still not enough. "I need more. " He pauses and she hurries to add "Please. I need it, please baby."

"Good girl." He pulls his finger all the way out of her and then thrusts two of them back in, both of them groaning as he does. She feels even tighter than before, so much so that he can barely move without taking the risk of prematurely blowing his load for the second time, and he lets her set the pace by rocking forward onto his fingers and then back onto his dick. "Fuck. You can't get enough, can you?"

"N-no," she stammers, crying out in pleasure when he starts thrusting deeper.

"Cause you're a slut for my cock."

She nods in agreement, unable to form coherent words any longer. It's a sensation unlike any she's experienced before, this feeling of fullness radiating through her body, and she knows it won't take much more before she's completely consumed. "Can. Can I. _Oh..._ "

"You wanna come?" he asks, taking pity on her as he keeps fucking her steadily, his fingers pushing deeper inside her. She nods and he bends his hand so that it's pressing against her clit again. "While I'm fucking both your holes like the little whore you are?" She lets out a full-throated sob and he relents. "Then come for me, pretty girl. Right now."

He knows she's not usually a screamer, but when she is- holy shit, he felt it echoing all the way down to what little of a soul he has left. " _Linds!_ Ohgodohgod. Ohhh my _God!_ "

"Again," he says, pulling out and grabbing a discarded pillow, putting it under her torso as he climbs onto the foot of the bed. She catches on quickly, moving forward so that it's underneath her hips, and he takes just a second to admire how fucking breathtaking she looks like that, face down with her ass up in the air awaiting him.

He enters her again as carefully as he can when his whole body is desperate for release, his front to her back and his face buried in her wild mass of curly hair. Resting his weight on his elbows and interlacing his fingers with hers, he starts thrusting into her roughly while she rubs herself against the pillow underneath her. "Steph. I'm gonna -"

"Do it, baby. Lemme feel you come in my ass." His hips buck forward once, twice, and then they're both coming at the same time, Lindsey biting down on the pale skin of her shoulder as he spills into her.

He collapses on top of her, mumbling something she can't understand, and she squeezes the hand that's still joined with hers. "Shit, am I crushing you?"

"I'm okay," she says, but he lifts himself up and pulls out of her, noticing when she frowns in discomfort.

"I didn't get too rough, did I? " he asks, apologetic as he lies down on his side next to her. "I got kinda carried away, I know, but I just... "

"I _like_ when you get carried away. " She gives him a soft smile, running her fingers over his chest hair.

"Oh, I _know_ you do, " he says with no small amount of pride. He knows he's by far the best she's ever had, otherwise she wouldn't keep coming back, but it's nice to have it confirmed. "I just don't wanna hurt you, though."

"Tell you the truth, I might be a little sore in the morning, but I'm not feeling it right now. I'll have my bedtime sake and I'll be good." Ever since their visit to the Sawadas, where she tried hot sake for the first time, she'd been having it every night before bed with a little bit of honey added because she claimed it helped her sleep. Lindsey thought it was probably more about the combination of sex and his epilepsy meds, but whatever works, right? "And _you_ , you were so good. Mmm." She kisses him slowly, reluctant when she finally pulls away. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up."

"Want me to come with you?" he asks, eyebrows raised suggestively.

"Down, boy. That would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"

Not to be dissuaded, he tried again when she came out of the bathroom, only to be rejected a second time. "No. You need to shower first and then I'll think about it."

"Think real hard!"

"I shouldn't have shared my pills with you," she teases, shooing him toward the bathroom with a slap on his ass. He was enough of a horndog already without chemical enhancements, for fuck's sake. "I knew I was creating a monster!"

"Monster? Is that your new nickname for my dick?"

"No! You already know what its nickname is," she says, pulling the towel wrapped around her up and over her face when she thinks about it. (In her defense, she was very, very high when she came up with it.)

"Oh right, the-"

"Shut up!" she squeals, flicking her towel at him as he cackles.

By the time he got out of the shower, he was a little disappointed to see that she was already asleep, curled up on her side with her empty sake glass on the table beside her. He dropped his towel onto the floor, something he wouldn't have gotten away with if she was awake to scold him, and climbed into bed beside her. He pressed his lips against the base of her neck, tucking the hair that had fallen in front of her face behind her ear. "G'night, angel."

"Lindsey?" he hears her ask in a wobbly voice a moment later, still facing away from him.

"Steph? What's wrong?"

"I- I can't. I don't think we should do this anymore."

He sits up, startled by her sudden announcement. "But- how come? Did I do something?"

"No, no," she says, turning her face toward the pillow because she can't stand to see the confusion and disappointment that she knows is written all over his face. "I mean, you can stay here tonight, I'm not kicking you out. But tomorrow...I think we need to go back to just being friends."

"I thought we were friends. Are friends, whatever."

He doesn't understand why she starts to cry as soon as he says that. "Yeah. Friends. But we're only here for a few more days, and then we'll be in Australia and Carol Ann'll be there all the time again..."

"Baby, is that what this is all about?" He puts his hand on her bare shoulder, hoping she'll turn around and look at him, but she doesn't acknowledge his touch. "If you're worried about Carol, she doesn't have to come. She got offered a few more modeling jobs, I can tell her she needs to take them and stay home-"

She jerks her shoulder away from him, turning onto her back and pushing herself up on her elbows. "You don't get it, Lindsey! I don't want to just be your friend, I don't want you to ditch her for another month- I want you to get rid of her for good! And I know I have no business asking you to do that, but that's where I'm at right now. I love you. I'm _in_ love with you, and this, us being together like this when I know it's just temporary- it's too hard. I can't keep doing this."

"Wait, what?" he asks, unsure of whether this is a drug induced hallucination like the baby Yoda he saw walking down the hallway a few days ago ('Not just a smaller than normal Yoda, but a younger one with a baby face! I'm not making this shit up!'). Because he's gotta admit, baby Yoda was maybe more believable than- "You. Stevie..."

"You don't have to say anything, I'm not expecting you to- I just wanted you to know. The last three weeks have been so good and I don't regret it for a second so...you deserved to know why instead of me just pulling away with no warning."

"No. I don't want you to do that. Please." He tries to reach toward her again but she shies away, her blanket pulled up over her chest.

"I don't have any other choice! We don't have to go back to fighting or ignoring each other, but you're not going to leave her, so that's what I have to do."

"Why do you say that?"

"What, that you're not going to leave her?" He nods, and she shakes her head with a sigh. "Because I'm realistic, Linds, it's been three years and all I've ever gotten from you is...it's just that, it's temporary! A day or two, if I'm lucky, and then you've gotta go back home because she's getting suspicious. I'm not trying to take some sorta moral high ground here cause I know I'm just as guilty as you, but it still makes me feel like shit. "

She's pretty certain that he won't believe her, or that he'll get defensive and make some crack about how she must feel like shit a lot, because it's not often that she turns away whoever's at her door. But she's tired of pretending, and he deserves - no. _She_ deserves to have her truth heard.

"But. I'm. If I ask to stay longer, you'll kick me out," he mumbles, still so confused.

"Sometimes it's just easier that way, you know? If I'm going to end up disappointed no matter what..." She shrugs, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her fingertips. "I've screwed up a lot, and I've done a lot of things to hurt you. Maybe I don't deserve to be forgiven. I understand that. But I just wish things were different."

_I just wish things were different._ He closes his eyes, thinking about the last time he heard those words and how she was gone by morning. He thinks about the dream he had back in New York, where she told him she loved him and she'd always come back to him, and how desperately he wanted it to be more than only a dream. He opens his eyes again, just in case this is all a dream too.

She's still there.

"I don't love Carol," he blurts out. "You know that."

"Do I?" He doesn't treat her like he loves her, that much is obvious, and she's never bought into the illusion he's tried to portray of them being a blissfully happy couple. She's heard even darker accusations, whispers when people think she's not listening, but she's never tried to dig deeper. "Like...you've been going out for a long time. That has to mean something."

"I guess. I mean, I care about her, but I've never loved her in the way that I thought about me and her having a future together, or anything," he says. _Not like I used to think about us._

"So then why are you still with her? Why were you ever with her?"

He looks down at the blanket in his lap, fidgeting with the corner. "I was lonely. She was there and...I liked how she made me feel."

"Linds," she says with a sympathetic frown, trying to reach for him, but now he's the one to shy away. "But why stay with her now? If you don't love her..."

"What else am I supposed to do? How am I gonna find anyone else who-" For a 30 year old, he had very little actual dating experience and from what he _did_ have, he'd learned that he wasn't the greatest boyfriend. Being a celebrity was enough to get girls to sleep with him, but that was either all they wanted or else they lost interest as soon as they started getting to know him outside of his bedroom. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."

"Baby..."

"I said, it doesn't matter." For a moment he had let his guard down, he had forgotten that they weren't back in another time when he told her all the things he'd never admit to anyone else. Because even then she still lied to him, she knew what he was afraid of and she used it against him anyway.

"Well, whoever you're with, they're lucky." He blinks in disbelief, still not looking at her. "I'm serious. No one's ever loved me as much as you did. I just didn't realize that until it was too late."

He hears her crying softly again and it's enough to make him raise his head just as she casts her eyes downward. "I loved you with my whole heart. Still do."

"Enough to give me another chance?" she asks hesitantly, looking up at him through her lashes. "I know it won't be perfect. But we've grown up and I think we've changed. We won't make the same mistakes again."

_I know it won't be perfect._ The words terrify and thrill him both at the same time, like summer afternoons spent cliff jumping at the lake. (Stevie would never come along, she was too scared to even watch.) Sooner or later, they'll fuck this up. He'll hurt her or she'll hurt him, and he's not sure which one he's more afraid of. He knows that she's right, they won't make the same mistakes, but they'll make new ones.

_I know it won't be perfect._ They'll fuck up. She wants to try anyway, knowing what she knows about him and about the two of them together.

He remembers the first time they had sex, when he accidentally said _don't screw it up_ to himself out loud and was thinking what a shame it was that he was going to die of humiliation right then and there, 19 years old and still a virgin. To his surprise, she just laughed. Not _at_ him, but with a kiss on the cheek and an encouraging smile and the assurance that 'you're not going to screw this up.'

'I'm. Just. This might not last very long,' and yup, he had a nice run but now it's RIP Lindsey because he can't. stop. talking.

But she still smiled at him, like she was utterly charmed instead of dying from secondhand embarrassment right along with him, and shrugged one shoulder. 'It probably won't. But that's okay, we'll keep trying. And I _know_ you know how to get me off no matter what. So we'll be alright.'

"What are you smiling about?" she asks, mouth quirked up at the corner despite her tears.

"You."

"I hope that's a good thing, " she says cautiously, shyly. She reaches out her hand again, and this time he accepts. "I just want to be with you for real. No more lying, no more sneaking around. But...I'm not going to beg for you to take me back. I want you to be with me because _you_ want it as much as I do."

"I do, Christ, I do." He's only been waiting to hear this since 1976. For her to come back on her own out of love, not because she's running away from something.

"You have to let me live my life, though. I'm gonna be honest with you, but I need you to trust me in return when I say there's nobody else."

He nods. "What are you gonna do about Jimmy?"

"Well, I'm going to tell him that from now on, we have to keep things strictly professional," and there's a little bit of a challenge in her voice, like this is a test of whether he's really just the same old Lindsey with new hair, "I'm not going to stop working with him, but that's where the relationship ends. Not that it was ever going to be more serious than that anyway, but...yeah."

"Okay. I just...I don't want you staying at his house for weeks at a time," he admits.

"I won't. You're the one I'm coming home to every night," she assures him, and is he _positive_ that this is really happening? "In any case, he's buying a condo in LA, so he'll be much closer."

_Oh goody_ , he wants to say, but he keeps it to himself. He's gotta take this little by little and maybe, if things are going well between them, she'll realize that Jimmy's not the one she wants to make an album with after all.

"Shit," he says, having forgotten the other obstacle in their path. "What am I gonna do about Carol? I need to call her."

Stevie looks taken aback. She'd had her own heart broken via long distance call, and there were some things that just needed to be said face to face. "Lindsey, you've been dating her for three years, and you're going to break up with her over the phone? I mean, I really hate saying this, but she kinda deserves more than that. Even if you don't love her, that's pretty cold."

"But isn't it worse to have her fly all the way across the world just to dump her? Unless you're saying I should have her come out here and string her along for a month-"

"No. Absolutely not." Her kindness toward the other woman only extended so far, and she wasn't going to spend another four weeks apart from Lindsey while she watched him pretend he was still Carol's boyfriend.

"Maybe...what if I call her and tell her we need some time apart, so she should stay in LA and keep working. Then when I get back home, I can break it off for good and it's not like it's coming straight outta nowhere."

Stevie considers this. "And what if she says no, she's coming to Australia anyway?"

"Too bad, cause I'll already have cancelled the ticket." He leans forward and kisses her, trying to quell her skepticism. "I love you, baby. Trust me. This'll work."

When she hesitates, he holds out his pinky in a silent gesture from a time long past.

She smiles and curls her finger around his.


	23. I was alone when I knew it was real (1980)

**_February 1980_ **

"The ants go marching up your arms, hurrah hurrah," Stevie sings in a loud whisper, walking her fingers up and down the bare skin of Lindsey's upper arm.

Still partially asleep, Lindsey reaches out and slaps at her hand like he would an actual stray ant. Stevie giggles and he rolls over to get away from her, but she just starts making the same motion across his back.

It had been a rare morning when she had woken up before him, enjoying the chance to snuggle in his arms and watch him sleep. For the first time since the beginning of this trip, she hadn't felt that pang in her heart upon awakening, the one that told her she was another day closer to waking up in an empty hotel bed while knowing Lindsey was down the hall with his _real_ girlfriend. Now _she_ was going to be the real girlfriend once again. Without the lies, the hiding, the quick encounters that were exhilarating but left her feeling even emptier once they were over.

If you would've asked her a month ago, she would've said that the distance between them was necessary, maybe even for the best. No matter how she felt about him, they couldn't make a relationship work. Period. It wasn't like they hadn't tried, after all, so it just wasn't meant to be.

If you would've asked her back then if she loved him, she would've said 'yes, but...'. She loved him even when he hurt her, and even when she hurt him, but she had learned that you could love someone without being with them- and again, maybe that arrangement was for the best. The heart wants what it wants, so it was inevitable that they would keep falling back into bed with each other, but maybe that was an okay compromise. She had him when she wanted him and she still got to keep her freedom.

And if you would've asked her in January if she would ever confess that she regretted their breakup and wished he'd get rid of Carol Ann for good, she would've said it would never happen in a million years. She wasn't great at admitting her mistakes and she _definitely_ wasn't the kind to ask him to take her back, especially not when she would be risking him choosing his new love over her. The very idea scared her shitless. So what if she might've fucked up by leaving him? She made her bed and she was going to lie in it, stubborn and alone.

But then somehow everything changed. She got a glimpse of how good things could be and a reminder of how good they had been before everything seemed to be conspiring to tear them apart. Her heart felt lighter and younger- at least, as long as she wasn't thinking about this stolen moment in time coming to its inevitable end.

She hadn't meant for him to hear her crying back on that night at the Sawadas' house, but once he did, she had hope. Maybe he would understand how she was feeling. Maybe he even felt the same way. She thought she couldn't have been any clearer about what she wanted short of spelling it out for him directly, but his reaction just left her more confused. He wasn't pushing her away. He held her and consoled her and kept her close to him all night long, and yet...nothing.

"It sounds to me like he's afraid," Robin said when Stevie managed to sneak away from Lindsey to call her, waking her friend up in the middle of the LA night. "Either that, or he just doesn't get what you're trying to say."

"Then what am I supposed to do?!"

"Be straight with him and tell him how you honestly feel." Stevie snorted, aghast at this suggestion. "I'm serious! This is the time, Steves, you're getting along and you don't have any...distractions. When else are you two ever on the same page at the same time?"

"You think I should just tell him to dump Carol? Really?"

"Honey, you have spent the last three years telling him to dump her. Not in so many words," she added before Stevie could argue, "but you have. And so now, if you want this, I suggest you go for it before it's too late."

Stevie pursed her lips together, deciding to change the subject. "So what's life as a fiancee like?"

She could hear the smile in Robin's voice. "It's amazing."

At first, she wasn't sure that she could take Robin's advice. It didn't seem fair. She was the one who ended the relationship, so Lindsey should be the one fighting for her, trying to win her back. Isn't that what he would be doing if he really cared? Hadn't these last couple of weeks shown him what a mistake it was for him to be with Carol? It felt all wrong. But she knew that if she didn't say anything, she'd regret it as soon as she saw them reunited again. She just didn't know when, or how, she was going to go about it. And then-

"Stoppp," Lindsey groans, reaching out to swat at her hand again as her fingers kept 'marching' up his arm.

She pouts even though she knows he can't see it with his eyes still closed. "You used to think it was cute when I did that."

"It was cute because we were so baked at the time."

"We were not," she argues, remembering the two of them lying side by side in his parents' backyard one summer afternoon, only letting their hands touch because his mother was keeping a not so surreptitious eye on them while she tended to her garden. "It was way back when we were still good kids."

"Still good kids, huh? That _was_ a long time ago." He shifts so that he's halfway on top of her, nuzzling at her neck. "We definitely weren't good kids last night."

"Not at all," she says, raising her leg slightly as his morning erection presses against her thigh.

"Mmm...you still alright?" She nods and tilts her head back to allow him better access to the column of her throat. He kisses a mark he'd left next to her collarbone, soothing it with his tongue. "God, you felt incredible."

"So did you," she says, hands smoothing up and down his back.

He laughs softly. "Should I be worried that my dick isn't going to do it for you on its own anymore?"

"I don't think that'll be a problem." Her palm trails over his ass, fingers gently kneading, and she squeals in surprise when he pins her wrists over her head and nips at her inner arm.

"Does anyone else know what a dirty girl you are?" he asks, and she shakes her head emphatically. It's the truth. She'd been called a prude on more than one occasion, even though that might have had less to do with her and more to do with men who thought their fame entitled them to everything. She didn't think it was unreasonable to say 'no, I don't like that', or refuse to do something she didn't even know was humanly possible, although apparently some would beg to differ. But with Lindsey, it was different. He was still a virgin when they met and she wasn't much better, her sexual experience limited to a few short, fumbling encounters in the dark with her high school boyfriend. They learned it all together, going from her being embarrassed to let him eat her out to discovering that she really, really liked him slapping her ass and saying things that would make her younger self die on the spot. To this day, she has a level of trust with him that she's never had with anyone else and doesn't think she would ever have again.

Yet another reason why maybe this was always their destiny, to find their way back to each other. "Only you."

"I love you so much," he says quietly, their foreheads touching. "I'm gonna give you everything you've ever wanted. I promise."

"I have everything I want. Now all I need is you."

"You have me," he assures her. He lets go of her wrists and lies down on his side next to her, fingers splayed over her hip. "What I said yesterday, that I'd tell Care she had to stay home- I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to upset you or make you think that's all I was after, something temporary..."

"It's alright, Linds, you didn't know." It _had_ hurt her at the time, his offer to ditch Carol for a few more weeks, but she supposes she hadn't done a very good job of being clear about what she wanted from him.

"I would've broken up with her a long time ago if I'd known, I swear. She was never you. Not even close."

"Well, _that's_ obvious," she says with a smug grin.

He smiles back and moves closer to her. "And I'm sorry, uh, for...using her to hurt you, because I know I did. I was angry and I guess wanted to make you jealous."

"Well. I'm not saying that it worked, but. Apology accepted." They both know that if anything, it might have worked too well. Despite his constant cheating, the fighting, the way he talked about her, the way he talked _to_ her- until last night, Stevie honestly did believe that he must have loved Carol on some level.

As if reading her thoughts, he nods and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "I love you, I never stopped. It was always you I wanted."

"I love you," she repeats softly, reaching for the back of his head and pressing her lips to his.

\-------------------------

By the third week, Alice was ready to leave wonderland.

Nineteen days had passed since they arrived in Japan, and the honeymoon period was long over. Everything that once felt so quaint and interesting was now just...annoying. Stevie missed being able to speak and be understood, to read signs and menus, to not have to rely on pointing and gestures to communicate. She missed actual American food, not the Japanese attempts like a 'chicken caesar salad' that had no chicken or caesar dressing. She missed being in public without being gawked at. Back in LA, she could put on a hat or glasses and be unrecognizable if she wanted to be, but as a foreigner here she stood out everywhere she went. While walking down the street, she'd be asked to pose for photos with people's children and stopped by people who wanted to touch her curly hair. At first it was funny. Now? Annoying.

Even the light snowfall on their last free day in the country wasn't enough to improve her attitude. They had just gotten back from a group outing to a whiskey distillery, where their plans to take a tour were spoiled when they realized it was all in Japanese, so they skipped that part and went straight to the tasting room. It was still fairly early in the evening when they returned to the hotel, and Mick was trying to round up people for one last boys' night out at the pachinko parlors.

"Lindsey, my good man, I've barely seen you in weeks!" he said, drunkenly slapping Lindsey on the back. "Come with us. Last night we ended up at a bar near the uni, and we met this charming young lady who-"

"Maybe that's why you haven't seen him, because you've been chasing tail this whole trip," Stevie interrupted, arms crossed.

Mick and Lindsey looked at her and then at each other, confused because Stevie typically had a c'est la vie attitude to Mick's exploits unless they happened at her expense. "Eh, don't mind her, Mick. Whiskey makes her mean."

"Does not."

Lindsey mouthed 'it does' to Mick before he turned back to Stevie and lowered his voice. "I won't go if you don't want me to, baby."

"No, you go ahead. I'm so exhausted, I just want to eat my Big Mac and go to bed." Stevie's mood had lightened considerably when she saw that there was a McDonald's across the street from their hotel, announcing that she was dying for a Big Mac. It was something she could take or leave back home, but she was craving something familiar after days on end of rice and seafood, a combination that was beginning to make her stomach turn just from thinking about eating it one more time. "Just...keep your hands off the pachinko hostesses."

He nodded, ignoring the whip cracking noise Mick made behind his head. "Want me to wake you up when I get back?"

"Yes please. Hey, keep an eye on him," she called out to Richard, who gave her what she thought was the Boy Scout sign.

Turns out, Richard was never a scout.

She awakes later that night to Lindsey sitting down on the bed beside her and leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. "Mmm...hi sweetheart."

"Hey...I'm home. You can go back to sleep if you want."

"No, I'm awake," she lies, glancing at the clock as she puts her arm around his waist. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"Uh, funny story. You probably don't want to hear it."

"Lindsey! What did you do?"

"Me? _I_ didn't do anything," he protests. As he explains it, they were headed to a place Mick knew about when they got sidetracked by a couple of pretty young girls who spoke good English and started flirting with them. Richard decided they should buy their new friends a round of drinks, and the girls said they knew of a place where it was all you can drink for one set price.

"And let me guess, they were lying to you."

Lindsey scoffs. "We knew places like that existed here! It's not like we were _totally_ stupid."

"But let me keep guessing. They brought you top-shelf stuff as fast as you could drink it." When he just looks sheepish, she smirks. "That didn't tip you off? It'd be a terrible business model."

He shrugs. "Hey, we just ordered what the girls wanted."

"Don't tell me, they were in on it the whole time."

"Uh. So then when we finally got the check, it was a couple grand and Mick flipped out and started yelling about how he wasn't going to pay." He caught the attention of the manager, a man with the tell-tale tattoos of a Japanese mobster. "And of course, Mick insults the girl who was flirting with him...yeah, turns out that was the yakuza guy's girlfriend. We paid and got the fuck out of there but, ah, we should probably never show our faces in whatever city this is again."

"And I'm not letting you go out on a boys' night any more! Geez, and I thought my evening was bad," Stevie says, lying her head in his lap.

"Why, what happened? You didn't get your Big Mac?"

She groans and turns over on her back to look up at him. "I did. But as soon as I took a bite, I just wanted to puke. There was something not right with the meat there, I swear to God, but the girls told me it was all in my head. They thought it was fine."

"Are you okay now?" he asks, squinting at her through the darkness.

"Yeah. Chris said maybe it's just because I haven't smelled a hamburger for so long. I felt better once we left."

"Are you still hungry? Do you want me to call downstairs and get you something?"

"Nah, I'm fine. I had my fries, and I had corn- they gave me a cup of corn with my burger!" she says, having been amused by all the surprising places corn had appeared in Japan, including on a pizza. "I had my bedtime sake when I got back and it settled my stomach. I'm just tired."

"We all are," he agrees, standing up and stripping off his shirt and jeans. He drops them onto the floor, ignoring Stevie's glare, and gets under the covers.

She looks down at his naked lap pointedly. "Did you forget something before you went out?"

"I didn't _forget,_ I was just in a hurry!" He had gone back to the room to get changed before he left with the other guys and Stevie, perhaps more worried about the allure of the pachinko hostesses than she would admit, had pushed him back onto the couch to give him a _very_ nice send off. Even Mick calling up to the room to tell him the car was there and they were all waiting wasn't enough to dampen his enthusiasm- he had felt pretty damn smug picking up the phone when it was obvious he was getting his dick sucked, although Stevie had to pull away momentarily when she couldn't stop laughing.

"That's right, I remember now," she teases, kissing the stubble along his jawline as he wraps an arm around her back. They make out lazily for a few minutes, but she breaks the kiss when his hand travels down to her ass. "Mmm, honey. Rain check?"

He moves his hand and nods, frowning in concern. "You sure you're alright? You don't need me to get you anything?"

"No, baby, it's okay. I'm just tired, that's all."

\-------------------------

Something didn't feel right.

She should've been happy- they had just finished their last show of the Japanese tour and were celebrating before boarding a plane to Australia tomorrow. It wasn't quite home, but it was a land of sunshine, English speakers, and more American-style food. (And drugs. Definitely more drugs). She wasn't _unhappy_ , per se, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was a little off.

Lindsey picked up on it too. They were all hanging out in Mick's suite, doing the usual post-show partying, and normally Stevie would be buzzing around the room so much that he couldn't keep track of her. But tonight she stayed close to him, sipping her drink quietly, and when they sat down on the loveseat together she slumped down beside him.

"Still tired?" he asked, kissing the top of her head, and she nodded. She had slept until it was time to leave for the venue, and she acted normally until the show was over, but after that she seemed to be crashing fast. "C'mon, let's go back upstairs."

"You can stay longer if you want, you don't have to leave because of me."

"Nah, I'm beat too." He helped her to her feet, keeping his arm around her waist. "Plus I've gotta call Carol. She left me a message that there's a leak in our bathroom ceiling."

Stevie rolled her eyes. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"It's probably bullshit," he agreed, "but just in case it's not...I wanna get everything squared away so we can sell the house fast." They had been planning to move even before this, but the timing was convenient. He hoped that it would be sold by the time he came home in the spring so that Carol would have to find somewhere else to live and he would...move in with Stevie? Was it too soon to start thinking like that? "It'll be quick, I promise."

She hesitated when they reached their floor, but let go of his hand to pull her room key out of her purse. "I think I'm gonna take a bath while I wait for you. And if you hurry, maybe you can join me?"

"Yes ma'am," he said, brushing his lips across hers before heading next door to his own mostly unused room. It's not that he personally had anything to hide from Stevie, but he knew she'd rather not hear Carol's voice, even through the phone (she could get _loud_ ). He'd been honest with Stevie about how their last conversation had gone, that he'd said exactly what he'd planned to say. The good thing about being a shitty boyfriend is that this wasn't the first time he'd told her that he 'needed some space', either because he was spending time with Stevie or he just wanted to be left the fuck alone, so this wasn't an entirely new situation for her. She'd handled it better than he thought she would, really, although that might have just been because he called five minutes before he had to leave for soundcheck.

He reflexively reached into his pocket and groaned when all he came up with was a Kleenex. Tomorrow, he reminded himself as he picked up the phone. Just one more day...

\-------------------------

"You're kidding!" Stevie rebuked the mini bar when she glanced inside and noticed that there was no sake. "Goddamnit."

She had gotten undressed and then laid back down on the bed, feeling like she didn't even have the energy to go run water for a bath. After a moment's rest she got up and went over to the minibar, thinking she'd just fix herself a drink and then go back to bed, but her beverage of choice was all gone and now she felt inexplicably close to tears.

"Fucking ridiculous," she said, referring to both the situation and herself. She was a big girl, she could handle this. She could call downstairs and have them send a bottle up, or- oh! Lindsey probably hadn't touched the mini bar in his room, since he'd been with her pretty much constantly since they'd arrived two days earlier.

Deciding that she'd just go next door and get it rather than waiting for Lindsey to come back, she grabbed the extra key resting on top of the TV and headed out.

\-------------------------

Meanwhile, Lindsey was having a struggle of his own.

There was no leak in the bathroom. There was, however, a very unhappy soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend on the other end of the line.

"Carol, will you stop being so selfish about this? You make everything all about yourself," he said, picking up the phone and carrying it as far toward the window as the cord would allow. "Babe- no, c'mon, I'm sorry. Don't do that. I love you, but I just need some time, okay? What? Yeah, honey, of course we're still gonna get married. I promise-"

He heard a strangled cry coming from behind him and whirled around to see Stevie in the doorway, looking absolutely stricken.

"Wait! Don't-" he called out, but it was too late.

\-------------------------

"Stevie! You've gotta listen to me, please."

"I don't gotta listen to _shit_!" she yelled back from the other side of the bedroom door. She had run back to her suite and he had chased behind her, but by the time he made it inside, she had already locked the bedroom door and left him standing uselessly in the living area.

"Baby, you know I didn't mean it. I have no fucking intention of marrying her, I just wanted to shut her up and get her off the phone-"

"You think I don't know that?" She paces back and forth in front of the door, wringing her hands as her whole body shakes. "I'm more concerned about- how could you not tell me you were engaged?"

"I wouldn't say we were engaged, we-"

"Did you or did you not ask her to marry you at some point?"

He pauses, teeth cutting into his lower lip. "Will you let me explain?"

"Oh, this'll be good," she snorts, but she allows him to speak.

"It was a couple of years ago, back during the Rumours tour, I...I wasn't doing well, okay? I knew something was up with you and Mick and one day, I guess I just blurted it out, that we should get married." It had been an impulse decision, an attempt to ensure he'd have something to hold onto in a world that was rapidly spinning out of control. "It wasn't a real engagement. I never formally proposed, I never got her a ring-"

"Do you do that a lot? Propose to someone without really meaning it?" she asks, bitterly remembering the two times he had asked her the same thing he had apparently asked Carol. The only difference was that she had said no both times. Maybe that was a stupid mistake, or maybe that was the smartest decision she'd ever made. She didn't know what to think anymore.

God, she felt like she was going to be sick.

"Jesus, Stevie, of course not. Look, all it was- if we were really, truly engaged, why wouldn't I at least have gotten her a ring sometime in the last two and a half goddamn years? Why wouldn't we have told anybody?" he asks, pulling at his hair in frustration. _Don't do this to me. Not now._

"You know, that's a real good question!" She stops pacing, leaning her forehead against the wall. "You say all this shit about you wanted to make me jealous, so wouldn't that have been the ultimate thing to throw in my face? Have her show up at the studio with a big rock on her finger?" The wallpaper feels cold against her flushed face and she's sweating even though she's barefoot and wearing only her silk robe, perspiration beading at her hairline like the tears in the corners of her eyes. "Unless that wasn't the reason at all. You wanted to marry her, but you didn't want to let the secret out because then I might not fuck you anymore..." She huffs dryly. "When you, of all people, should know that doesn't make a difference to me, does it?"

He squeezes his eyes closed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Why _hadn't_ he told her? He's not even sure, other than because he never intended to follow through with it. Maybe he didn't want to hurt her, especially after what happened with Mick. Maybe he was afraid it _wouldn't_ hurt her, that she'd shrug her shoulders and wish him luck. "It's not like I purposely left you out of something. I never told anybody, and she promised me she wouldn't either. Stevie...fuck. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but you're making it out to be something it's not. Will you please just come out here and talk to me?"

"Why, so you can bullshit me some more? Not fucking likely!" Her emotions feel like a snowball rolling down that steep hill in that little village they visited- going too fast for her to control, growing and growing as she remembers a thousand different moments and wonders if they too were all lies.

"Steph," he pleads, standing right next to the door and speaking in a quiet, level voice even though he wants to bust it off the hinges and grab her by the shoulders, wants to force her to listen and _believe_ him. "I'm telling you the truth, okay? I'm not going to marry her. You're the one I want to be with. Everything I said to you the other day was true, I know you know that."

"I don't know _anything_ right now, Lindsey! I don't know how I thought...I'm so fucking stupid, you let me pour out my heart to you and I believed you when you said that she didn't mean anything, you didn't love her. You can't tell me you stayed with her this long, let her think you were engaged for this long, if it didn't mean something."

"Baby...look. It's late, I know you don't feel good, we're both tired and we both had a lot to drink after the show." Normally he would say it was the coke talking, making her paranoid, but he's not really sure _what_ she might've taken tonight. "Maybe we should get some sleep and talk this out in the morning before we have to head to the airport."

"And what's going to be different then? Nothing. You'll still be a liar." An image pops into her head, him in bed with Carol Ann while he kisses her and promises her that she'll be his wife someday, and she starts to sob helplessly.

"Stevie," he tries again when he hears her crying. "Don't do this, angel. There's no reason to...I love you. Can I please just come in?"

She thinks about how smug Carol must have felt all this time, knowing that the two of them had this secret they'd kept from everyone else. She remembers when the two of them would be whispering and snickering, not even bothering to pretend that they weren't looking at her. Is that what they were talking about? "No, you can't! What would you have done if you stayed with her- just gotten married once she wore you down, and then kept fucking me on the side? Did you figure I'd be cool with that?"

"Will you stop?" he asks, patience rapidly fraying. "You're getting hysterical over something that doesn't exist."

"That's exactly it, I don't know what's real and what's not. How am I supposed to believe anything you say? You tell me you love me, you asked me to marry you before- all the same shit you said to Carol! How do I know you're not lying to me and you're going to call her up and have a good laugh over how _hysterical_ Stevie is?" Hysterical! How dare he? Never mind that if he'd overheard her even joking about marrying some other man, he'd have an aneurysm!

Now he was just plain getting mad. "You know, you've got a lot of nerve calling me a liar when you're the one who cheated on me multiple times. Why should _I_ believe that you're not going to keep fucking around behind my back?"

"You said you forgave me! And that was years ago. You don't get to keep throwing that in my face!"

"Yeah, well, maybe I lied," he says, ignoring the shout of frustration coming from the bedroom. "You know, this is so like you. As soon as you feel like things are getting too intense and you might have to make a goddamn _commitment_ for once, you go and create all this drama to give yourself an out. You're so fucking predictable!"

"So now it's my fault, huh?" She tilts her head back and gulps for breath to give her the oxygen to keep speaking, keep standing, as if her heart hadn't been shattered and the broken pieces weren't tearing up her stomach.

"Maybe it is! You had your chance. I wanted to marry you years ago and you said no, you wanted to keep screwing other people-"

A loud thump interrupts him as she hurls one of her sandals at the door. "Enough, Lindsey! I'm done."

"Stevie, no," he says, his demeanor instantly changing. "C'mon, I know you don't mean that."

"Like hell I don't!"

There's a silence, and for a brief moment he thinks she's about to change her mind and open the door. He waits, frozen, but then all he hears is loud muffled sobs. "Steph. Please?"

She doesn't respond, and then soon comes the unmistakable sound of him hitting the wall over and over, followed by glass breaking and all sorts of crashing.

She pulls the pillow under her head over her ears to block out the noise and waits for it to stop.

\-------------------------

Any hope he had that a good night's sleep might change her mind was dashed when she came down to the lobby the next morning, head held high in a regal 'don't fuck with me' pose and flanked by Christie and Sharon, looking like guard dogs ready to rip out the throat of anyone who approached their mistress. Message received.

As for Stevie, her last night's sleep had been anything but good despite polishing off nearly an entire bottle of sake. She finished the rest in the limo on the way to the airport and popped another one of Lindsey's pills once on board the plane, knowing she needed to be unconscious in order to survive the 13 hour flight ahead.

Robin was waiting for the group at the airport in Perth, having arrived in Australia a day earlier. She had spoken to Stevie two days ago and was thrilled to hear that she and Lindsey had finally gotten their heads out of their asses and told each other the truth. It would've been better if they had done that back in 1977, before all this mess with Carol Ann started, but when had those two ever taken the simple route with _anything_? Oh well. At least this leg of the tour was going to be so much more peaceful than the last one.

Lindsey was one of the first off the plane, Richard tagging behind. Robin saw them coming and waved excitedly to get their attention, but Lindsey just looked at her and then instantly stared down at the floor, walking past her without a word. She frowned at Richard, silently asking what was going on. 'You don't wanna know,' he muttered, shaking his head wearily.

Stevie was bringing up the rear of the Fleetwood Mac contingent, having been awoken only when they landed. Her eyes were hidden behind her large sunglasses, but there was no mistaking how her face crumpled as soon as she saw Robin, stepping into her friend's open arms and bursting into tears. More confused than ever, Robin could do nothing but hug her back and quietly console her.

Lindsey watched them discreetly, the sound of Stevie crying making it almost impossible for him to hold back from going over there and trying to fix it all. She was obviously hurting, not as aloof as she had pretended to be in the morning, and he knew he could solve everything if she would just _listen_ to him. Maybe she had already started to realize what a giant misunderstanding it had been.

He was distracted by a small group of people coming to greet them, introducing themselves as the band's various in-country handlers. One man in particular stands out to him- tall and tanned with shaggy dark blond hair, looking like he could've stepped right off the cover of some surfing magazine.

Someone else noticed him too. Out of the corner of his eye, Lindsey could see Stevie pushing her sunglasses up to the top of her head as she hurriedly dabbed at her eyes just in time for Surfer Man to walk straight toward her with a broad smile on his face. "Ms. Nicks? I'm Peter, and I'll be in charge of security while you're here. Welcome to Australia."

"Aren't you sweet?" she cooed, meltdown apparently forgotten as she batted her eyelashes and clasped his outstretched hand in both of hers. "But really, call me Stevie."

He couldn't hear Peter's reply, too distracted by the way Stevie turned to look right at him with a stare that screamed 'eat shit and die.'

So that's the way she wanted to play it? Fine. Game on.


	24. the impossible is possible tonight (1997)

**_August 1997_ **

"Son, how about you come give me a hand with the grill?"

Lindsey turns his head as Jess claps him on the shoulder, his palms suddenly starting to sweat. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

He knew this moment was coming ever since he arrived in Phoenix yesterday, pulling into the Nicks' driveway and finding Stevie there waiting for him on the front porch. She had flown out to visit her mom and dad a couple of days prior, taking advantage of their short downtime in between work on the album and the beginning of rehearsals, and he had stayed behind to tie up the last loose ends in the studio before driving out to join her at the insistence of her parents.

It was the third time in the last twenty years that he had made that drive on his own, and the first time that he wasn't scared of what was to come and unsure of what state he'd find her in. This time she wasn't hiding behind her mother, anxiously rubbing her still flat stomach, or locked away in her bedroom and in her own mind. Today she was smiling as brightly as the August sun, holding two wiggling dogs in her arms.

"They wanted to come out here with me, but the pavement's too hot on their little paws," she explained, tilting her head up to kiss him and pulling away when his mouth lingered for too long on hers. "Linds! My parents are watching."

She might have been acting demure right then, but who had been whispering filthy things into his ear over the phone the night before? For all she teased him about being a dirty old man, she was the one who seemed to be suffering the most after two days spent apart, if the way her the tip of her tongue kept darting out when they made eye contact was any indication.

But now she was inside, chatting with her mother in the kitchen as she fed the dogs, and he was sitting on the patio swing and picking at the label on his beer bottle, trying not to look too much like a kid waiting outside the principal's office.

Jess closes the hood of the grill and sits down beside him, Lindsey bracing himself for what's to come. _If you hurt her..._

"You know, Barb and I, we weren't sure what to think when Teedee told us about this whole reunion thing," he says. "And not just because we worried about her spending so much time with you again, although that was part of it. She was so excited and we were afraid of something going wrong, that she would be crushed- we didn't want her to end up back in trouble like she was before, not after how far she'd come. "

Lindsey nods. He can't blame her folks for being skeptical, given their history. But even so, they'd always been nicer to him than he probably deserved at times.

"Of course, you know her. She does what she wants to, so we just told her to be careful and hoped for the best. But now, seeing her these last few days...we can't remember the last time we've seen her so happy. Not since she was much, much younger. And we know you have a lot to do with that."

"I dunno," he says modestly, even if there's a hint of pride in his voice. "Like you said, she's come a long way, and she worked hard to get there. I can't really take credit."

"She has, and we're proud of her. But if it wasn't for you...anyhow. We just feel like we've got our girl back."

"I...yeah," he says, thinking back to the two of them sitting hand in hand on the beach and stargazing in the same place they used to go 25 years ago, now a lot older and a little bit wiser after everything life threw at them in the interim. "I know what you mean."

"We're glad we don't have to worry about her being out on the road, because we know you'll be looking after her."

"Yes, absolutely," he promises, looking the older man in the eye. "You have my word, I'll take care of her. And not just while we're touring. I'm serious about making this last this time. I...I want to give her everything she deserves."

Jess gives him a real smile for the first time since their conversation began and he's relieved to see it, even though they weren't just empty words for her father's benefit. "That's good to hear. She's certainly optimistic about the future, more than she has been in a long while."

"I don't know if she's said anything to you or not- she'd probably kill me if she knew I was telling you this. But we've been talking about...y'know. Starting a family," he says. He figures that if she _has_ mentioned it, then it's good for her parents to know that he's on the same page this time. If she hasn't- he still wants to assure them that he's committed.

Jess raises his eyebrows, but he doesn't seem completely surprised. "I wondered if that was coming."

"Not right away, obviously, but once we're done with the tour...it's something we both want," he says, and even after several late night discussions about it with Stevie, it still seems a little surreal. "We know it won't be easy, but we've been doing our homework, finding out what our options are."

"Well, we would certainly love to have another grandchild. Just...be careful," he says, glancing toward the house.

"I'll do my best. We've already decided that IVF is out, because the chances of it actually succeeding at her age aren't good and- I won't put her through that. She was willing to try, but I just can't."

"She would blame herself if it didn't work," Jess agrees.

"Exactly. And I...no one wants that to happen again," he says quietly before moving the conversation along. "So that's out. We're looking at adoption, even though we're on the higher end of the age range that a lot of agencies will accept. I'm not above greasing a few palms if that'd convince them to bend the rules for us, but I think Stevie's leaning toward using a surrogate."

"Like someone carries the baby for you?"

"Yeah. That way, the baby would still be blood related to one of us, but we'd have an egg donor. And you know Stevie would treat that girl like a queen. She's already got it all planned out." Jess chuckles, nodding his head. Lindsey knows this is probably a strange conversation to be having with your quasi-father in law and Stevie would _definitely_ kill him, but it's a sort of relief to have someone else to talk about it with. It's been on his mind so much lately and who else is he going to confide in? Mick? Not likely.

Jess gets up to tend to the grill as he talks. "Just because you'll be older parents, that's not necessarily a bad thing. You'll be able to slow down and enjoy it more. If there's one thing I regret, it's that I was so busy busting my ass and didn't appreciate how fast it all goes by. Hell, it feels like yesterday that some shaggy haired hippie kid was driving off to go live in sin with my little girl."

Lindsey laughs, giving him an apologetic shrug. Their decision to move together to LA without getting married had gone over like a lead balloon with her parents at first. They weren't stupid, they knew he had been sleeping over at Stevie's apartment basically every night for the last two years, and yet they looked the other way as long as his name wasn't on the lease. But this- this was taking it to the next level. ("What will the neighbors think?" Barbara had asked not-so-rhetorically).

They had asked him and Stevie to think seriously about tying the knot before they left. He probably could've been talked into it, if for no other reason than to please her parents, but Stevie wasn't having it. Their last tactic was to threaten to withhold the money they had been saving for her eventual wedding- either get married now, or she would never see a cent. She still stood firm, and the Nicks' grudgingly accepted that she was going to do this whether she liked it or not.

On the day they left, as they were wrapping up the goodbyes, Jess discreetly handed Lindsey an unmarked envelope. At first he assumed it was a few fives to fill up the gas tank, but he quickly realized it was too heavy to be just that.

"What is-"

Jess shushed him before he could finish. "Don't let Teedee see it until you two get there."

"I...no, I won't," he stuttered, stuffing what was then the largest amount of money he'd ever seen in one place into his pocket.

"And Lindsey," Jess continued, a hint of amusement on his face, "I expect that you two will be paying for your own wedding once you hit the big time."

As Jess closes the hood of the grill again and sits back down, Lindsey blurts out that he does "intend on asking her to marry me sometime soon, if we're going to have a kid and all- we haven't talked about it yet. Ultimately it's her choice, but...I mean, I hope she'll say yes."

"I hope she will too, son."

He nods and mumbles something that even he himself can't interpret, red faced in a way that has nothing to do with the desert heat. That was _definitely_ a tidbit that he hadn't meant to reveal- it felt too risky, like he was jinxing his chances by saying it aloud. But nonetheless, Jess looks pleased at the news.

Stevie pops her head out of the slider door leading out to the patio, keeping it closed as far as possible to keep the dogs from escaping. "Dad, can I steal Lindsey for a second? I need him to give me a hand with something."

"Sure thing, honey. Lindsey," Jess says, standing as the younger man heads for the door, "thank you, again. For everything you've done to take care of her."

"Thank _you_. For putting up with me, and us, for all these years."

Jess reaches out and pulls Lindsey into an unexpected half-hug, kept appropriately short so as not to impugn anyone's masculinity. "And just so you know. As happy as I'll be when you finally make an honest woman out of my daughter - I'm still not paying for your wedding."

\-------------------------

"Oh my God. I thought they'd never let us leave."

Stevie groans as Lindsey pushes her up against the front door the moment that they step into her house, already stripping off his sweat soaked t-shirt.

Her parents, oblivious to their eagerness to have some alone time, had kept them long after dinner had ended. Every time they thought they could make a break for it, either her mom or dad would start up another conversation. When the topic turned to her aunt's gallbladder surgery, she knew it was now or never. "Momma- we should probably get going. Lindsey's real tired after driving out here so early this morning. But we'll be back before lunchtime tomorrow, I promise."

"Oh of course, I didn't mean to keep you. Are you sure you don't want to just stay here? I'll even let you two sleep in the same room," she added with a laugh, recalling a rule that had been the source of much consternation for Stevie over the decades.

"It only took 50 years, but I'm finally allowed to have a boy in my room," Stevie joked. "But we...uh, I, I have some things I need to take care of over there before I leave. And I've gotta feed Jesse's fish for her."

It _was_ true that she had agreed to feed her niece's goldfish while she and her parents were away visiting Lori's family, but it wasn't at the top of her priority list (sorry, Spinkles, you can hold out for a couple more hours).

First things first. She reluctantly steps away from Lindsey, patting his cheek. "Go upstairs and wait for me in the bedroom."

"Naked or clothed?"

"I guess that's up to you, isn't it?" she asks as she walks toward the bathroom. "I'll just be a minute."

She shuts the door behind her and undresses quickly, changing into a sheer red bra and panties with a matching robe that she had bought yesterday in anticipation of tonight. God, she was horny. She wasn't sure how the last two days without sex felt longer than the previous two and a half years, but it really had, and she would've jumped him right in the front seat of his car as soon as he pulled into the garage if she hadn't already had this planned out.

Fluffing her hair, she reaches for a tube of bright red lipstick and carefully applies it, taking one last look in the mirror before nodding in approval and heading down the hall. While she normally let Lindsey take charge in the bedroom- an arrangement that had always suited them both- she liked to change things up every so often. (And he did too, probably even more than he would admit). She had casually mentioned all the dirty things she had been thinking about doing to him while they were on the phone last night, and he had seemed eager for a demonstration, so now he was sure as hell going to get one.

She stands in the doorway, watching him as he lays on the bed in only his boxers, fingers flying over the strings of an invisible guitar. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Holy...shit," he says when he finally notices that she's in the room, sitting up as she saunters toward him.

"Uh-uh," she warns before he gets too close. "The rule is, you don't get to touch me. Not until I tell you that you can."

He plays along, crossing his arms and putting them behind his head.

"Good boy." She kneels down at the edge of the bed and props one of his feet up on her thighs, thumbs rubbing circles over his heel. As her hands travel up to his ankle and then his calf, she leans forward, deliberately letting her robe fall open to display a little more of her cleavage. She had purposely picked out a bra that was a size too small so that it would barely contain her breasts, and his appreciative reaction was more than making up for the way the underwire was digging into her ribs. Not that she would be wearing it for much longer, anyway.

She does the same with his other leg, only this time she lets her hand move further upward and skim the inside of his thigh, careful to not make contact with his cock. Instead she sits in between his legs, reaching underneath him and squeezing his ass with both hands.

"Fuck," he says, hips jerking upward, and she smirks. She pretends that she's going to reach toward the growing bulge in his boxers but then diverts, straddling his thighs and running her nails slowly over his chest and stomach. "Steph..."

"What? I'm just getting started." He shivers as she lets her fingernail drag across his nipple, then traces a line just underneath the waistband of his underwear. "Do you want me to take these off?" When he looks at her like it should be obvious, she hesitates. "Okay...but I mean it, you keep your hands right where they are."

She can tell that he thinks this means she's going to give in and touch his dick now, when he really should know her better than that. Once he's completely naked, she starts smoothing her hands over his abdomen and down to his thighs, unable to resist rolling her hips a few times against his leg.

With a look warning him not to try anything, she puts one hand on his hip to keep him still as she uses her finger to circle around the base of his cock. "Oh, you like that, hmm?"

"I can think of...ahh...even better things..."

"You're so demanding." She sits back and unties the sash on her robe, shrugging it off her shoulders to give him a full view of what she has on underneath.

"God. Can I-"

"No." He's about to argue, but then she ever so slowly runs her fingernail all the way along the underside of his dick and his whole body jolts like he's been zapped. She bites her lip to stifle a laugh, cupping his balls in her palm and gently massaging them, using her other hand to pinch her nipple through the thin material of her bra. "Mmm. Look at you...I bet you're gonna fuck the hell out of me, aren't you? You're so hard already."

"I will if you let me."

He starts to reach toward her, but she quickly moves away. She lies down on her side next to him, faces so close that their noses are almost bumping, but she keeps her torso a safe distance from his. "I wanna kiss you. You can touch me if you want- but not below the shoulders."

His hand grasping the back of her head, he pulls her toward him while his tongue eagerly seeks entrance to her mouth, but she doesn't give in right away. She kisses him slowly, fingers traveling up and down his length at the same leisurely pace as she feels him pulsing underneath her touch. "Fuck...Stevie. You're killing me here."

"Am I?" she asks innocently, wiping a lipstick smudge off of his bottom lip with her thumb. She finally wraps her hand loosely around his cock and strokes him from base to tip, frowning when his hips thrust forward. "Stay still."

"You're really getting off on this, aren't you?"

"Aren't _you_?" she responds. He grunts and she gives him a light squeeze. "Whatever. I can tell you love it."

She keeps working him with her hand, alternating longer strokes with shorter ones up and down the head so that he never knows what to expect. "Baby. Please."

"Hmm? What do you want?" She takes the opportunity to sit up, reaching behind her back and unhooking her bra, and he seems to instantly forget whatever he was about to say. He pulls her on top of him, capturing a nipple in his mouth as she gasps in surprise. "That's cheating...hey, no, I didn't say stop!"

She hovers on all fours above him, head thrown back as he circles the little bud with his tongue. When she moans again, he releases it with a pop and smirks. "No. No more. Not until you suck me off."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She fully intended to go down on him anyway, but she'll let him think he's in control. "Be a good girl."

She nods, eyes cast downward subserviently as she settles herself in between his legs. With one hand stroking his balls and the other encircling the base of his cock, she peppers wet kisses all over his hard length, only stopping to look up and give him a mischievous smile. "Does that feel good, daddy?"

Before he can answer, she gives him one long, leisurely lick, tongue flicking back over the wetness gathering at his tip. She takes her time sucking the head into her mouth, the red O of her lips forming a tight seal as her hand tightens around his shaft.

"God, your mouth...ahh. Fuck..." His hand comes to rest in her hair as she laps at him with her tongue, swallowing him down at an agonizingly slow pace. "Steph. Touch yourself." When her eyes flick upward, questioning, he nods. "Don't think I can't tell how wet you are right now."

Well, he wasn't lying about that. Unable to get her panties off in her current position, she pushes them to the side and moans as she sinks two fingers into herself. "Ohhh."

"That's it, baby, like that. So good," he encourages her as her head starts moving more rhythmically, interspersed with pauses where she would scrape her teeth carefully over his sensitive length. She lets out another long moan as her fingers pluck at her clit and he tugs on her hair. "I'm gonna..."

She pulls away, pressing one more kiss to the tip. "Are you ready? You're gonna fuck me hard, right?"

"Yes, God, just let me-"

"No," she says, holding up her hand to keep him back while she finishes undressing. "You have to wait just a little bit longer..."

She straddles his hips, taking him in her hand and rubbing herself against him, using the head of his dick to stimulate her aching clit. "Stevie...shit, baby, lemme fuck you. I wanna make you come. Please."

"Mmm, I could come just like this," she says, his whole cock now coated in her wetness. "But since you asked so nicely...how can I say no to that? You know how much I love that big dick of yours inside me." She closes her eyes as she lowers herself down onto him little by little, his hands on her hips to steady her. Once she's settled, she rocks back and forth experimentally a few times. "Ahh...okay. Fuck me."

She can't help giggling at his enthusiasm as he flips them over so that she's beneath him, but that laugh turns into a gasp the first time that he drives into her. She grabs onto his back, nails digging into his sweaty skin, her knees bent toward her chest in a way that she didn't even know they could bend anymore. "This hard enough for you?"

"Y-yes! So good, Linds, like that, just like- _ohh_ , like that. Don't stop." With both his hands gripping the headboard for better leverage, she shifts so that he's at a better angle to make contact with her clit with each thrust. "Oh god..."

He grunts in response, too fixated on what he's doing for words. It's that intensity that she's always loved about him, that exacting perfectionism that can drive her crazy with frustration or take her to the brink of ecstasy. "Ste-"

"Ohhh fuck," she cries out, her body tightening around him and triggering his own orgasm. She lifts her hips to meet his, gripping his ass as she milks every last drop out of him.

"Mother of -" He lets go of the headboard, pulling out of her and collapsing onto his back as he inspects the dark red lines crossing his palms. "You think these are gonna bruise?" he asks, holding them up for her to see. She just laughs and shrugs, and he shakes his head as he puts his arm around her waist. "So I guess you really missed me, huh?"

"Or I just wanted to get off and I thought well, he'll do."

"And here I was thinking I should get up and make breakfast for you in the morning - but in that case, forget it." She gives him her best sad puppy dog eyes, the ones that have worked on him since he was 17, and he tilts her chin up to kiss her. "I love you."

"Love you too, honey, " she says as she affectionately ruffles his sweat-damp curls. She's never had him in her bed at the house before - hell, it's been years since this room has seen _any_ action- and it feels homey in a way her condo back in LA never has, even with him there all the time. It makes sense, she supposes, because she had this house built with the intention that it would be for the two of them and their baby. _Someday, maybe._

He must have been feeling nostalgic too. "Tell me a secret."

"A secret? Hmm," she says, remembering all the times they used to play this game when they first started dating. She thinks for a moment and then smiles nervously. "Okay. This one will blow your mind." His eyes widen with intrigue as he waits. "I don't even know if I should tell you this."

"No, it's too late to back out now," he insists.

"Fine, but...it goes no further than this room. For obvious reasons," she says, putting her hands over her face to hide her deep blush. "Do you remember during the Tusk tour, at John's birthday party, when we got in that huge fight because Jimmy thought I was going down on someone in the ladies' room?"

"Uh. Yes?"

"Well. I am telling you once and for all, that is not what I was doing." She leans her head back and sighs in embarrassment. "You probably won't believe me, but it's the truth. I was in there making out with Lori."

Lindsey's mouth falls open in a way that she thought was only possible in cartoons. "Like, your sister in law Lori?"

"She wasn't my sister in law then! Trust me, it wasn't...it was just this stupid thing where we went in there to do a couple lines, we were high and joking around and it just happened."

"You just _happened_ to go down on her?" Lindsey asks, still gaping.

"No! God, no! I don't do that kind of stuff. It was all above the waist. And that floor was disgusting." She rolls her eyes. "Close your mouth, dear."

"But why didn't...you could've saved yourself a lot of drama if you would've just come clean then. I mean, I think I can speak for Jimmy when I say neither of us would've had a problem with that," he says, raising his eyebrows.

"Lindsey, don't be gross," she scolds, hitting his shoulder lightly. "I didn't tell you guys because you had already pretty well made up your mind. And also, it was none of your business! You didn't need another sick jerkoff fantasy."

"If you think that I never jerked off imagining you doing some other woman before -"

"I swear to God, I will kick you out of this bed if you finish that sentence," she threatens. "What is it with men being obsessed with the idea of two girls together?"

Lindsey scratches his head, looking up at the ceiling. "So. Was this the _only_ time something like that happened, or was this a regular thing I had no idea about?"

"Nope, sorry, you know the rules. One secret per day." She thinks that the real answer to that question is probably way less scandalous than he's anticipating, but she'll keep that information tucked away for some other time when she needs a way to bribe him. "Now it's my turn. Oh! I wanna know what Dad said to you."

"Eh, the usual 'if you break my little girl's heart, you'll have me to answer to' stuff," he lies.

"At least he didn't bring the 'Jesus forgives, but I don't forget' back out," she says, recalling one of the (many) things her father had said to Lindsey while she was pregnant. "My parents, I swear to God...oh! Listen to this.You'll never guess what my mom asked me- she asked if we're planning on getting married. Can you believe that?"

"Oh?" Lindsey says, acting casual. "And what'd you tell her?"

"I said we will when she pays for it."


	25. every move you make and every vow you break (1980)

**_March 1980_ **

Stevie heard her before she saw her.

She had just entered the venue and whirled her head around as she heard that familiar shrill giggle, only to be startled when Carol Ann jumped up from where she was sitting and hugged her. "Stevie, it's _soooo_ good to see you. I missed you all so much!"

"Carol," she said, not returning the embrace. "I thought you were back home modeling?"

"I had planned on it, yeah. But then Linds called the other day and told me how lonely it was without me here, so I got on the next flight out. How could I say no to that?"

"Hmm." She looks over Carol's shoulder to make eye contact with Lindsey, who's watching the two women interact with a barely concealed smirk on his face. "Lindsey? A word?"

Unbothered by her icy tone, he stands up and follows her down the hall to her dressing room. Robin sees them coming and alerts the other girls, who quickly scatter to wherever they'll be eavesdropping from.

Lindsey closes the door behind them and leans against it. "Is there a problem, Stevie?"

"You said she wasn't coming out here!"

"I guess I changed my mind." She opens her mouth to speak but he cuts her off. "If you would've been on time for rehearsal yesterday, you would've heard me telling Chris and John she was flying in last night. But -" he checks an imaginary watch on his wrist, "you were 46 minutes late."

"Wow, you were timing me? Don't I feel special."

"Guess you must've had a long night with what's his face." Any sympathy he might have felt for her had vanished on their first morning in Australia, when he heard Stevie loudly saying goodbye to their new bodyguard as the sun was rising. He couldn't believe he had spent the last two days (and two sleepless nights) beating himself up over what had happened. Even though he thought she _did_ slightly overreact, he still hated that he hurt her and he couldn't figure out why the hell he hadn't just told Carol to get the fuck out of his house by the time he got back. His only consolation was that, in the short time that he and Stevie had together after they reconciled, he had taken every chance he had to tell her all the things he'd been wanting to say for years. He hoped that it would be enough, that she would come to her senses and recognize what she had to know deep down was true. Because she _had_ to know that he loved her. Didn't she?

Whether she did or not, she obviously didn't care. He thought that maybe the way she was batting her eyelashes at Peter the bodyguard back at the airport was an act, just trying to get under his skin as a form of payback. But she definitely slept with Peter not even 48 hours after she had claimed to be so in love with him, and that's when he knew for sure that he got played. It wasn't the first time, but he swore it would be the last. He was _done_.

Fortunately for him, Carol was easier to win back than Stevie was. He called her when he was shitfaced and rambled about some stuff that he can't completely recall now, but it must have been effective because she's here and she hasn't mentioned anything about that 'break' he told her that he needed last week.

"Peter and I are none of your business!" she huffs. "Especially since...so are you and Carol Ann back together or what?"

"Back together? We never broke up."

"Oh." She presses her lips together in a straight line. "Good to know."

He sees her eyes start to water and has a momentary pang of conscience. "Stevie. I didn't-"

"No, no, it's fine." So she had been right- it was all lies. He lied to her the same way he lied to Carol, and once he got caught he hightailed it back to his plan B. "Go back to your fiancee," she says, hissing the last word like a curse. "I'm sure she's wondering what you're doing."

He slams the door and it roils through her like an earthquake, like a punch in the stomach, and she barely manages to grab the trash can in the corner before she loses it.

\-------------------------

They've been in Australia for 12 days now and she's doing fine, honestly. She keeps going. Is it sharks that die if they stop swimming? If it is, then she's a shark. Or maybe that's wrong, maybe she's thinking about dolphins. She could ask Peter, he would probably know. He seems like the kind of guy who likes the beach.

She actually knows nothing about him. She invited him back to her room for drinks the night they met, and the sex was decent so he got a return invitation, but it's not like they really talk about stuff. In fact, he kinda came off as an ass in the few conversations they had, so she decided it was better if they didn't keep talking. He doesn't do any drugs or smoke anything or even drink more than a glass or two of wine if he's officially 'off the clock', but he makes sure she has everything she wants and he follows her around wherever she goes and when she wakes up in the afternoon, he's usually there. So it's not a bad arrangement.

She's so lonely. Not alone, she's never alone, but she's always lonely. She wants to go back to Japan. Back where she and Lindsey were always together, where they watched movies that they didn't understand until they got bored and snuck down to the hotel pool in the middle of the night, then got chased out by an old janitor yelling "stupid Americans!" at them. She wants to go back to the day she convinced Lindsey to take her to a snow sculpture festival, how they walked around holding hands in the freezing cold for hours and how she couldn't stop shivering even when they got back to the hotel, so he ran her a hot bath and got in there with her until she was finally warm again. She wants to go back to when they would skip the after party and head straight to the hotel to get loaded on their own and fuck all night.

Now he still leaves as soon as the show is over, but he's with Carol. She stays out until sunrise and gets high enough to genuinely convince herself that she's having fun. It takes a little more every day, but eventually she reaches that point where intellectually she knows she's still miserable and heartbroken and yet she just doesn't feel it anymore.

At least, not until she has to see him again. He's as vicious to her as he's ever been, as much as he was when they first broke up or when he found out about her and Mick. Today he starts his bitching as soon as she walks into the room where they're supposed to be having a group interview for some magazine. Yes, she's late again. She's aware. It's getting harder to get out of bed every day, more hungover and more exhausted than before, and having to be near him isn't really an incentive for her to be on time.

She tries to ignore him. The interviewer, David, is a guy they met before on their last trip to Australia. He greets her with a big hug and lets her take a long drag off of his joint, which only seems to piss Lindsey off more.

She apologizes for her tardiness (only to David) and he assures her that it's no problem. "How does it feel being down under again?"

"It's great, the people here are wonderful and it's a beautiful country."

Lindsey snorts loudly. She can smell the alcohol on his breath wafting all the way across the table to where she's seated. "Like you would know, it's hard to see any of it when you've been flat on your back the whole time."

"Lindsey!" He looks amused, but she takes a slight bit of comfort in seeing that everyone else's expressions range from uncomfortable to annoyed. Even Carol, who's sitting in the corner filing her nails, seems irritated.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he says, way too pleased with himself for a real apology. "I'm sure you've spent plenty of time on your knees too."

"You know what? Fuck you. I'm not doing this with _him_ ," she hisses, standing up so fast that her empty chair tips over as she stomps out.

She's standing in the hallway, snorting a long line of powder off of her wrist when she hears an accented voice. "So he's still a bit of an arsehole, yeah?"

"God, I'm so sorry about that," she says to David, but she can't help smiling a little at his obvious concern for her. "If you give me a minute, I'll come back in. Just- tell J.C. that I want him gone. I can't handle this right now."

"Don't worry about it, love, take all the time you need. Or...maybe I could take you out after the show tonight and we could finish up then? If you're not busy, of course."

She remembers going to a party at his house when they were in Melbourne a few years ago, sneaking up to his bedroom but then being interrupted by something or another before they could get very far. He was a good kisser, though, and a sweet guy- and she _was_ getting a little bored with Peter, to the point where she had been fooling around with his friend the night before while he was out running some errand. Yeah, maybe that was shitty, but it's not like they were dating. Peter had left and it was just her and his friend in her room. She asked him if he wanted to do a couple lines with her and then one thing led to another and...anyway. "Actually, David? I would love that."

\-------------------------

Everyone was ignoring Lindsey.

Fuck that, _he_ was ignoring _them_. To be ignored, he would have to want to be interacting with them, and right now he sure as hell doesn't. Apparently he didn't check the Australian calendar closely enough to notice that today was national Pile On Lindsey day. Once again they're all falling over themselves to feel sorry for poor little Stevie, who keeps getting picked on by mean old Lindsey, when they don't know _shit_ about what really happened. Richard was the only person he ever said a thing to, either when he thought they were getting back together or when she decided they weren't, and Lindsey knows he wouldn't tell a soul. Stevie's talked to Robin about it, he's sure, and maybe her other girls, but he's fairly certain she hasn't told anyone in the band. So naturally they blame him, for reasons he doesn't understand, because Stevie's 'having a hard time' or 'going through something' or whatever excuse they're making for her today. He's the bad guy- for what? She's the one who shows up late and stoned out of her mind every day because she 'overslept.' Must be nice. He hasn't had a decent night's sleep since Japan.

Finishing his drink, he stands up and looks around the room for Carol. He agreed to hang around for a little while after the show tonight so that she could do...he doesn't know what she's doing, actually, but he's decided that it's time for them to leave.

He's surprised when he sees Peter the bodyguard leaning against the wall, talking to some guy he didn't recognize. Stevie had left right away, and he had just assumed he was with her because they seemed to be inseparable these days.

"Thanks again for helping me out last night and giving me some alone time with miss Stevie, mate," the stranger says to Peter in the same dumb accent as the other man.

"Eh, it's nothing. Didn't I tell you? Give it ten minutes when she's coked up and she'll be all over you without even having to try. Easiest lay I've ever had."

Peter's buddy laughs. "She sure was. I'm just surprised you were willing to share."

"Don't think I'm gonna do it again- at least, not without charging you," Peter says, elbowing the other guy so hard that he nearly spills his drink. "Hey, that's not a bad idea, I could probably make a nice little profit that way."

"You son of a bitch!" Lindsey has a momentary image of himself knocking this slimy bastard to the ground, cracking his skull with a kick to the head. But there's too many people around him, too many pairs of arms holding him back as soon as they hear him shouting, and he only manages to get one good shove in before he's being pulled away.

For his part, Peter looks stunned. "What the fuck is his problem?"

"You know what it is! You-" He stops, seeing the blurry outlines of dozens of people standing around him, and he can't let them all hear that. Stevie would be so humiliated. "Get that piece of shit out of here! I want him gone. For good!"

"Fine by me! This bloke's crazy, I don't want to be anywhere near him," Peter says, still trying to garner sympathy from his audience.

"I'm crazy, huh? Then you're a-"

"Lindsey, enough," JC barks, signaling for the band's usual bodyguards to help him drag the guitarist away as the venue security guys show up to investigate the commotion. "You're gonna get us kicked out of here and we've still got one more show to play."

"I don't give a fuck! I want him away from me, away from Stevie-"

"Of _course_ this has to do with Stevie!" Carol shouts as she barges into the dressing room where JC has managed to corral Lindsey. "I heard you yelling all the way down the hall- what is it this time?"

"Get out of my face, you little bitch, or I swear to God I'll -"

"Did I not say that's enough?!" JC is as angry as Lindsey's ever seen him. "Carol, please, you're not helping. Just go wait outside." She's not budging, but she's wobbly enough on her stiletto heels that JC's able to maneuver her into the hallway without much effort and shut the door behind her. "Lindsey. You mind telling me what the hell is going on and why you're trying to throw punches at our security detail?"

"Because I want you to get rid of him! It's him or me," Lindsey declares, and JC rolls his eyes.

"Buck, you know as well as I do that if I gave the boot to everyone here who's had a thing with Stevie-"

"That's not what this is about! Jesus fucking Christ." Did everyone really think he'd be losing his shit just because she sucked some asshole's dick? Because if that was true, he would've been committed long before now.

"Then please, enlighten me."

Lindsey scrubs his hand over his face, lowering his voice because he knows Carol's probably got her ear pressed up against the door. "I overheard that friend of his saying thanks for giving him a turn with Stevie. Then he made a joke about passing her around and charging for it."

"Bloody... " JC's face hardens, and Lindsey's relieved to see that he gets it. "You don't think that he-"

"No, no, sounded like she was more than willing. She just didn't know it was a set up...you can't tell anyone about this, man, I'm serious. I don't want it to get back to her. "

Not for the first time, JC shakes his head in confusion over how those two operate. Lindsey himself has no issue embarrassing her with his own public insults, but becomes fiercely protective as soon as someone else tries to take over the job. "Right. I'm going to go...let him know his services are no longer needed."

He opens the door and, as Lindsey predicted, Carol's standing right in front of it. Her face is streaked with black mascara trails, her pupils blown as she chews on her bottom lip. "What the fuck are you crying about?"

" _You_ , Lindsey, I'm tired of this shit! You've been an asshole ever since I got here, acting like I'm just supposed to sit around and watch you get drunk every day, and then the one night I finally convince you that we should hang out with everyone for a while, you have to go and ruin it by making a scene. About Stevie! It's _always_ about Stevie. And this time she's not even here, she's on a date with that guy from the magazine! When are you going to let it go?"

"Stupid bitch! Did I ask for your opinion?" He stands up and strides over to her, grabbing the v-neck collar of her blouse. "I don't need this. You got that? I don't need some little cokehead who thinks she knows everything. Because you don't! You don't know _shit._ So get the-"

" _Woah_!" JC interrupts, getting in between the couple before things could escalate even more. "Lindsey, what the hell has gotten into you?"

"If you don't wanna be here, then _go_. I don't care!" Lindsey shouts at Carol over JC's head, ignoring the other man.

"He's been on a weeklong bender," Carol chokes out through her tears. "He hasn't been okay since he left Japan, whatever it is that happened there-"

JC knows what happened in Japan, of course, but Lindsey appreciates him trying to divert Carol's attention without selling him out. "Carol, love, I can tell you're exhausted. How about I get you a cab so you can go back to the hotel and get your own room for the night? I think you two could use a little space."

"O-okay," she agrees, refusing to look at Lindsey.

"Atta girl. Now let's go." He gives Lindsey a stern glare. "I'm coming right back. Don't you move a muscle or I'll have your head."

He puts his arm around the still-sniffling Carol as he leads her away. Lindsey picks up an empty beer bottle and hurls it at the closed door, the sound of shattering glass giving him a second's worth of satisfaction before he slumps down to the floor.

\-------------------------

Meanwhile, Stevie's day was going from bad to worse.

It started (technically, because it was after midnight) with her maybe-a-date with David. She was exhausted after the show, even after the copious amounts of blow she'd been snorting, and really just wanted to crawl into bed, but she didn't want to cancel on him after she'd walked out on the interview earlier. He suggested that they skip going out in favor of heading back to his place and ordering in, and she was happy to go along with that.

"Is there anywhere nearby that delivers sushi?" she asked, leaning against the wall of the elevator as they rode up to his apartment.

"Uh, I'm not sure. But I know a good Chinese place, if that works."

She shrugged in agreement. "I could go for some noodles."

"Didn't you just spend a month in Japan? I'd think you'd be tired of that stuff."

Honestly, she thought she was too. But ever since she got to Australia- well, she hasn't had much of an appetite at all. On the rare occasions that she _is_ hungry, though, she wants the same foods she was so sick of eating in Japan.

They sat on his couch and chatted while she ate her chow mein noodles straight out of the carton, and after a couple of drinks they ended up in his bedroom. Everything went fine...at first.

"Can I take this off?" he asked, holding onto the hem of her silky blouse.

"Mmm, yeah," she said, then froze. Oh _shit_. "I'm-"

"What's- you don't look good, are you okay?"

She was, in fact, not okay. She sprinted into the adjoining bathroom at Olympic-qualifying speed. Then things got fuzzy.

"Next I remember, I'm lying there on the tile and he's trying to wake me up, I guess I fell asleep. But first I puked. A lot. How much did I drink last night?" she asks Robin as she relates the story to her that afternoon.

"Not that much. But you didn't eat all day, either."

She groans, letting her head fall forward into her hands as Robin rubs her back sympathetically. It wasn't the first time she'd thrown up at someone else's house, or even the first time she passed out on someone else's floor, but it sure as hell wasn't making this awful trip any better. And to think that at one point it was the Japanese leg of the tour that she was dreading! "Anyway, when's Peter getting here? You said he had something else going on this afternoon?"

"Uh, yeah. About that, honey..."

\-------------------------

"I cannot fucking believe you!"

Lindsey looks up from his guitar at a red-faced Stevie, the walking embodiment of aggravation. "Hello, Stevie, how was your night?"

"Oh, cut the bullshit. Why the hell did you get Peter fired?"

He picks up the bottle beside him and takes a long drink. "I mean, I really didn't. He quit."

"Because you tried to attack him out of nowhere! And don't lie to me, I've already heard it all. Everyone saw you try to take a swing at him for no reason!" He snorts drunkenly and she stomps her foot at him. "What's so funny about that?"

"It wasn't for no reason, okay. I had my reasons. Trust me."

"Ohhh no. I don't trust a damn word that comes out of your mouth, remember? Because you lie."

He leans back with his eyes closed, hands behind his head. Her bitchy attitude wasn't making it any easier for him to keep quiet about all this shit. It would probably feel good, for a fraction of a second, to see the look on her face when she found out that Mr. Wonderful was joking about pimping her out to his buddies. Would take her high and mighty princess act down a notch, that's for sure. But he just can't stand to let her be hurt by one more asshole who treated her like trash. He got rid of the guy, and tomorrow they'll be flying out to a new city and she'll forget all about him.

Besides, it's like she said. She wouldn't believe him even if he told the truth anyway. "He started talking shit to me and I wasn't gonna put up with it. The end."

"Oh yeah? What kind of shit?" He gives her a one-shouldered half shrug. "Uh huh, that's what I thought. I know exactly what happened. Yet _again_ , you couldn't handle me fucking someone who's not you. He hasn't even been around for two weeks, but it was burning you up, wasn't it? You got your precious fiancee back. Just go be with her and stay the hell out of my life because it's _over_. You, me, whatever it was...I don't want it. I don't want _you_."

"Hey hey, you two!" Mick says as he strides into the room, trying to pretend he hadn't heard any of the exchange between his bandmates. "Time for sound check, yeah?"

Stevie just shakes her head, walking away from the two men without another word.

\-------------------------

It wasn't something she _planned_ on doing.

She knows that when Lindsey finds out (and he will, she's certain of it), he'll think it was her way of getting revenge on him for whatever happened with Peter. But it wasn't. She just really, really hates that bitch.

By the time they'd finished with sound check, the caterers had arrived. She's not sure exactly what it is they've brought, but she smells red meat. Ugh.

Even more disgustingly, Carol Ann is standing in the middle of the room preening into her little compact mirror. When she sees Stevie, she gasps in excitement and snaps the compact closed. "Stevie! Look, aren't they beautiful?"

Carol excitedly shows off her new jewelry- a matching rose gold necklace and bracelet along with some small hoop earrings. Stevie can tell instantly that they weren't cheap. "Aww, you bought yourself a present? Good for you."

"No...I mean, I picked them out, but Lindsey bought them for me. He took me shopping today because he felt so bad that we weren't able to spend Valentine's together. Wasn't that sweet? You know him, he doesn't have a clue about jewelry, so he just told me I could have whatever I wanted."

"Huh." She had forgotten the holiday altogether back in Japan, too consumed by other things, and it wasn't until she saw the bouquet of sunflowers waiting for her in her dressing room that she remembered what day it was. "Well, like I said. Good for you."

She didn't fucking care if Lindsey wanted to shower his girlfriend with gifts. If she wanted diamonds, she could get them for herself. She doesn't need him, or anyone, for that. But it wasn't about Lindsey.

It was about stupid fucking Carol Ann, and how everything between her and Lindsey would be fine right now if it wasn't for that dumb bitch. They could've worked stuff out a long time ago, but she was always in the way. She sank her ugly claws into Lindsey when he wasn't hers to have and that was simply unacceptable.

Stevie went back to her dressing room after that encounter and stayed there until it was showtime to avoid having to see either of them again, seething quietly to herself behind closed doors. Once they got onstage, she did her best to focus on the audience and avoid looking in Lindsey's direction until it was time for World Turning, when she slipped into the shadows to enjoy a much-needed break during Mick's extended solo.

She went straight for the coke, sniffing and tilting her head back as she waited for the drug to kick in, but she was distracted by something shiny in her peripheral vision. There was Carol, standing in _her_ costume tent, smiling vapidly to herself and playing with the diamond-studded pendant on her new necklace.

Something inside her snapped.

\-------------------------

"Lindsey, I need to talk to you."

Just the tone of Carol's voice has him making a face. "Uh huh."

"Can you look at me? This is serious."

He turns around without a word, arms folded and a joint hanging loosely from his mouth. What could it possibly be this time? He thought they were cool again after the fight they'd had two nights ago. He'd gone back to the hotel and passed out for a while, then went down to the hotel lobby and got them to give him a key to the room she was staying in. She woke up when he let himself in, climbing into bed beside her, and he told her that everything was fine and he wanted to take her shopping for something special in the morning. Problem solved. "What is it? We only have a few minutes before we have to leave. Can it wait?"

"No," she says, annoyed. "I need to tell you now."

"Tell me _what_?"

"Stevie tried to attack me last night." Lindsey snickers at the image of the two women in a brawl, snarling and pulling each other's hair. He knows Stevie can fight, Carol he's not sure about, but she does have a temper when she's high and... _why is this kinda turning me on?_ "I'm not joking, Linds!"

He pretends to inspect the all too recognizable scratches on her upper arm, hoping Carol doesn't start thinking about where she's seen those same marks before. "Damn, she got you good."

"That's what I'm saying! I was in the tent watching the show, minding my own business, and then when she came backstage during World Turning she just snuck up on me from behind and grabbed me." She stops for a moment, then blinks. "Did you tell her that we're engaged?"

"Wh-what?" he asks, suddenly not laughing anymore.

"She said there was no fucking way in hell that she would ever let us get married. Like I was asking for her permission! I didn't even think she knew-"

"She doesn't," he says sharply, letting her know it wasn't up for discussion. "What...did she say anything else?"

"Yes! She called me every name under the sun, said I was an evil skank and she wished I would hurry up and die because she hated me and I ruin everything." She closes her eyes, biting her bottom lip solemnly.

"But what'd she say about me? Or about us?"

"Exactly what I told you! That she would never let me marry you and that if I knew what was good for me, I'd leave you alone." She looks up at Lindsey, big eyes watering over. "I was really scared, baby, I thought she was going to hurt me. There's something wrong with her mentally. Maybe it's syphilis."

He doesn't even acknowledge Carol's amateur diagnosis, feeling like the earth has been abruptly flipped on its axis. Those didn't sound like the words of someone who didn't care, who was 'over' it and didn't want him back. Granted, she had never been fond of Carol, but nor had she ever been so aggressive in her dislike of the other woman. He doesn't think it's just her way of retaliating against him for getting rid of Peter. She had already fucked his friend _and_ the guy from the magazine before Lindsey got involved, so it obviously wasn't that devastating of a loss, and he knows Stevie better than that. Any revenge of hers would've been enacted in front of an audience and would've been directed at him, not Carol. No, this was an unplanned fit of...jealousy? Interesting...

"Lindsey! Are you even listening to me?"

Shit. "I am, baby, I just...goddamn! I'm so fucking angry that she would do that to you! You didn't deserve that, not at all."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to tell you," she says, looking forlorn. "I know you're already stressed, but...I was just so scared! I really don't want any trouble with her."

"No, Care, you did the right thing. She was totally out of line and I can't believe that she...I am going to take care of this. Trust me, I'm going to give her a piece of my mind. She's not going to fuck with you again," he assures her, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

He knows he's a terrible actor, but she seems to be buying it, nodding at him as she rubs her nose. "Thank you, honey, that's all I want. I never thought she hated me so much..."

"Fuck, me neither," he says, gritting his teeth as he gets up and turns his back to her to conceal the wicked smirk on his face. "I'll handle this, babe. Don't worry."

\-------------------------

Stevie's not proud of the meltdown she had last night.

But she's not sorry about it, either. The bitch had it coming. If anything, she's been entirely too nice to Carol Ann over the last three years. Maybe she should've done it a lot sooner and spared everyone the drama. That's her only regret.

That, and the fact that Lindsey will inevitably hear about it. Carol is such a narc; Stevie's sure that she went running to Lindsey to rat on her as soon as they got off stage. She didn't stick around to find out, leaving right away for her second date with David (who miraculously invited her back after the previous night's fiasco).

She collapses into her seat on the plane, Robin reaching over to squeeze her hand. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine...hey, can I get a vodka and ginger ale?" she asks the passing stewardess. She was desperately in need of her favorite hangover remedy, having just spent the last 20 minutes throwing up in the terminal bathroom.

Robin frowns. Stevie's been overdoing it more and more every day, and she can't help but worry how she's going to make it through another three and a half weeks of being in close proximity to- "Lindsey?"

"Hey," he says to Robin before turning around, leaning over so that his mouth is right next to Stevie's ear. "I need to talk to you."

"Hmm." She keeps looking straight ahead, her quiet murmur the only indication that she's heard him, but the thumping of her heart threatens to betray her cool demeanor.

"Not here. Alone." His voice is level, measured in a way that would seem threatening to an outside observer, but she knows better. He may be pissed off, but he's also aroused as fuck and _goddamn_ if she doesn't want him to just take her right here. Now _that_ is something she sure wasn't anticipating. "Can I come to your room when we get there?"

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from reacting when he leans in further and she can feel his growing erection brush against her arm through his jeans, his urgency stoking a familiar heat inside her. "Yeah."

He nods tightly, his teeth scraping her earlobe before he straightens up and walks back to his seat.

"Baby?" Carol asks, concerned when he sits down beside her without saying a word. "Is everything okay?"

He doesn't trust himself to look at her. "Everything's going to be just fine."


	26. you want a war, you've got a war (1980)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **{{PLEASE READ ME: this chapter contains violence that might be upsetting or triggering for some. I struggled with writing it because while I feel like it's important to the story, at times it felt uncomfortably close to home for me- and probably for some of you as well. As always...comments, questions, concerns are all welcome, and feel free to send me a private message if you'd rather do it that way.**
> 
> **If you'd rather skip that part, stop at the end of the first scene and pick back up at "it's been over two weeks".}}**

**_March 1980_ **

"What the hell happened with you and Carol?"

He doesn't even give her a chance to answer, pushing her up against the wall in the entryway to her room and roughly crushing their mouths together. They had all but raced upstairs as soon as they got to the hotel, Lindsey barely bothering to say goodbye to Carol before closing the elevator door in her face, and they probably would've just fucked right there if not for the old cleaning woman who rode up to the tenth floor with them.

She turns her head to the side to speak and he bites at her neck, his hand resting at the base of her throat. "She was pissing me off."

"And you decided to dig your claws into her?" he asks, wincing as she scratches those long nails across his scalp.

"Yeah, so what? You gonna beat my ass?" She feels his hard on pressing against her, his fingers fumbling blindly with the zip on her dress, and she struggles to hold back a whimper at the thought of being laid out over his lap, wriggling against him in between blows.

He scoffs, although it's a tempting idea. "You'd like that too much."

"You wouldn't?" The zipper gives way and she raises her arms to let him yank the garment over her head, hearing but not seeing his reaction when he realizes she's naked underneath.

"Am I interrupting something? Someone else you were supposed to be meeting when you got here?"

"I took them off in the bathroom while we were waiting for our bags," she says as she expertly works the buttons on his shirt. "Didn't know how much time we'd have before you had to go crawling back to your fiancee."

"I told you, she thinks we're 'talking'. Because I'm angry at you for how you treated her." His shirt falls to the ground with her dress and he toes off his sandals, reaching down to get rid of his socks.

"Oh yeah?" She lets out a little squeak when he lifts her up off her feet as he stands back up, her legs encircling his waist to keep from slipping before he drops her onto the couch and climbs on top of her. He knows how much she secretly loves being manhandled, all the way back to when he used to hoist her over his shoulder and carry her around their apartment while she screamed with laughter and beat on his back. "And how angry are you, hmm?"

"Angry enough." It's the truth. He couldn't give a shit about whatever happened with Carol, but there's still resentment over how quickly she gave up and turned on him for one mistake, and how she hadn't wasted any time before letting some stranger stick his dick in her. But now there's that glimmer of hope there that's tempered his fury, thinking that she hasn't shut him completely out of her mind and her heart.

"Then tell her to stay the hell away from me or I'll do it again." He growls as he sucks one of her breasts into his mouth, hand exploring in between her bare thighs while she unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down far enough to free his cock. "I...ohh. I thought you knew how to keep her in line by now."

"And if not, you'll do it for me?" he asks, rubbing one finger up and down her slit. She's already soaked, so she must have spent the entire flight anticipating this just like he did. He licks her nipple with the tip of his tongue, tugging at it lightly with his teeth, and she lets one leg hang off the side of the couch so that his finger can reach deeper inside her.

"Someone needs to." She reaches for his dick and tries to guide him toward where his fingers are. He already knows she's wet and ready, and she doesn't want to make this seem like more than what it actually is. This isn't forgiveness. If this is his apology, she doesn't accept. This is just sex, and she'll blunt her feelings for the time being, but nothing changes once it's over. "Linds, c'mon. Fuck me."

She rises up on her knees and he tries to turn her so that she's kneeling facing the couch, but she has other ideas. He steps back as she stands up, leaning over so that her hands are flat on the cushions and her ass is in the air, her body almost bent in half. "Shit. I forgot how flexible you are."

"Bet Carol can't do that," she says with a snort, tucking her head between her arms and stepping closer to the couch to push her ass up even higher.

"Fucking show off." He takes a moment to admire her contortionist pose from the side before he stands behind her, fingers digging into her hipbones as he watches his cock disappear inside her. One hand reaches around to squeeze her breast as he starts moving and he raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Your tits feel different."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He does it again to test this theory. "I dunno. They feel heavier."

"Well, they're not. It's probably the angle." Is he implying that she's getting fat? If anything, her clothes feel looser now than when they first left for Japan, but it's normal for her to lose a few pounds on tour. "Lindsey, are you going to fuck me or-"

He brings his hand down on her backside sharply, the smacking noise and the sound of her loud cry mingling together. It's barely mid-afternoon and so he's still relatively sober, still in control of his emotions, so he trusts himself to hit her again with a little more force.

" _Ahhhh_." It's a half-whine, half-groan, and then he starts fucking her in earnest and she's not even sure if she's making any noise or not. He knows she can't stay in this position for very long, her arms struggling to hold the rest of her body up and the blood rushing to her head, so it has to be fast and rough and that's exactly what she wants right now.

Lindsey grips her waist to keep her upright against the force of his thrusts, taking pride in knowing that he'll definitely leave bruises on her hips. Maybe it'll ward off whoever she tries to pick up tonight. Or even better, maybe it'll make her remember why she doesn't need anyone else. She already knows it's true, that no one else fucks her like this, and maybe this will remind her. "Shit...you're so tight, baby. Feels so good."

"Harder," she pleads breathlessly, squealing in delight and discomfort when he pulls all the way out and spanks her again. He watches with satisfaction as her ass and the backs of her thighs become bright pink where his hand has been, then buries himself to the hilt inside her once more. She can feel his balls slapping against her clit with his every move and she's so close, lightheaded enough that she wonders if she'll black out when she finally... " _Fuck!_ "

Her arms give out and she starts to pitch forward before Lindsey can steady her, meaning he ends up accidentally coming all over her lower back. "Steph, God, I... _goddamn_. Sorry."

Fortunately, she seems to think it's funny. He can hear her giggling softly, lying face down on the couch, as he picks up her purse and hunts for some kleenex.

"You okay?" he asks, cleaning himself up and then wiping the mess off of her back. She turns her head toward him and nods, looking dazed but satisfied, and she groans when he brushes her ass with the back of his hand. "Sorry. Again."

"No, that felt good." He kneels down beside her and gently palms the curve of her backside, kneading it carefully with his fingers, and she makes a contented purring sound. Smiling, he leans toward her and kisses her temple. "Are-"

They look toward the door as they hear a rattling noise, followed by a woman's scream.

\-------------------------

**_later that night_ **

Stevie reaches for her robe and pulls it on over her pajamas, going to see who's knocking at her door.

It's Lindsey, leaning against the doorframe and smelling like that whiskey distillery they went to in Japan. "Ca' I come in?"

"I'd rather you didn't." She'd just popped a valium and gotten into bed after a long soak in the tub, hoping to fall asleep and forget that this day ever existed.

"But we need'a talk." She tries to shut the door in his face but he ducks under her arm and stumbles over to the couch, the same couch that was the scene of the crime earlier that afternoon. "I wanna talk to you."

She shakes her head at his slurred declarations. "You should be with Carol."

"She's gone. I think we broke up."

"Gone wh- you _think_?" she asks, not sure which question she wants answered first.

"Yeah." It was only a few hours ago, but the details are already a bit fuzzy in his memory. He knows that he and Carol fought. He tried to apologize, but she didn't want to hear it, so he rescinded his apology and blamed her instead. "She didn't believe me when I said it'd never happened before."

"Well, I wouldn't either. What are the odds that the one time in three years we sleep together is the one time she walks in on us? Did you really expect her to believe that? I mean, she's not _that_ stupid." She sits down at the opposite end of the couch, arms and legs crossed in an unwelcoming pose.

He kinda _did_ expect her to believe it, just like she'd believed all the flimsy lies he'd fed her before. Or maybe not even _believe_ it so much as accept it. She'd never actually caught him in the act before, but he didn't buy her shocked response- how was it possible that she never even had an inkling that something was going on? No one can be that deep in denial, could they?

He thought she'd just shut herself in the bedroom and sulk in silence for a day. But then she went after Stevie: "You know she doesn't love you, right? She doesn't give a shit about you, and she's just using you for an easy fuck like every other guy she meets because she knows you're pathetic and can't get over it!"

That's when he hit her. He doesn't remember it all, but he can see her picking up a wooden hairbrush and throwing it at him, can hear her yelling when he grabbed her by her ponytail and hit her on the back of the head with the same brush. He remembers cornering her and screaming in her face that she'd better get the fuck out before he did something _she'd_ regret, then watching her hastily collecting her stuff with a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of her crying.

"Lindsey. I said, where did she go?"

"Oh. Yeah. She's at the airport hotel. JC said he got her a flight home first thing in the morning." Neither of them said anything as she left the room; a goodbye would've just seemed redundant.

"Hmm." She's surprised that Carol decided to leave, even if only temporarily, and she almost expects her to change her mind somewhere over the Pacific and beg the pilot to turn the plane around. "Well, maybe that's for the best."

"What?"

"I said, maybe that's for the-"

"I heard you just fine," he says snidely. "That's really all you've got to say?"

"What else do you want?"

"Uh, you could start by apologizing," he suggests, mouth set in a firm line.

"For what? You expect me to say I'm sorry that you cheated on your girlfriend and got caught? Cause I have to s-"

"Or maybe you're not sorry," and she can't tell whether he's actually surprised by this or not.

"I'm really not! _You_ were the one who wanted to 'talk', I didn't coerce you into anything. _You_ were the last one into the room, so that makes _you_ the idiot who didn't lock the door. That's not my fault."

He abruptly sits up straighter, almost bouncing on the couch cushion. "It was _your_ room!"

"So? You know how locks work."

"This is just what you wanted, isn't it?" he asks with an irate smile. "Congratulations, you got your way. Like always."

"What I wanted? I just wanted to get fucked, Lindsey." She watches his smug expression crumple and she almost, _almost_ feels guilty. But then she thinks about how stupid _she_ felt sitting there waiting, listening to them screaming at each other in the hall, hating how much she wanted him to come back through that door and back to her, and then she doesn't feel guilty at all.

"Well, that just fucking figures. You never give a damn about anyone else but yourself, selfish little slut-"

" _You_ were the one who- no. Fuck this, I'm done." She's so tired. But she could sleep for a week and it wouldn't do any good, because she'd wake up and the cycle would repeat itself again the way it has for years now. They fight, they fuck, they fall for each other until they fight again and it just. doesn't. stop. Until now. Tonight she's putting an end to it.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't want to do this anymore! We have to quit going around in circles like anything's ever going to change because lemme tell you, it's not. Every time, we end up in this same damn place and I'm sick of it!"

"We didn't have to be! This is all on you. I wanted things to be different and I thought you did too," he says, anger surging as he hears the slight break in his voice, "so stop pretending you never had a choice."

"What choice did I have? To stay with somebody who I know is engaged to someone else?"

"Well, I mean, it wouldn't have been the first time that happened, would it?" She jumps to her feet in disgust and he reaches out for her wrist, roughly pulling her back down. "Don't act like you have more self respect than that when we both know that's a lie."

"Get your hands off me." She jerks her hand away, crossing her arms over her chest and purposely choosing not to reply to his comment. It's not worth it, not when he has his own infidelities that he should be worrying about.

"The only thing _I_ ever wanted was for us to be together, but you didn't want that!" Again he curses the vulnerability in his tone, pounding his fist on the end table in an attempt to conceal it. "And then when I try to move on, you go and fuck that up too! You can make all the excuses you want but it doesn't matter, we're here right now because of _you_."

"Fine! Whatever! I can solve that problem right now. From here on out, as far as I'm concerned, you don't exist. I will do the bare minimum that I have to for us to work together, but other than that, you are dead to me. I'm not speaking to you, I'm not fighting with you, and I'm sure as hell not fucking you. Never again. Goodbye."

_No. Don't do this to me. Not now._ On another day he might have laughed in her face, told her that she was being overly dramatic and that he'd see her soon when she came running back to him like she always did. But tonight he'd already lost the one source of security that he had, perhaps never to return, and he wasn't going to let her go too. "So you think you can destroy my whole goddamn life and then just walk away? Is that it?"

"I guess it is!" she shouts back. Carol was his _whole goddamn life_? She doesn't know why she's surprised; he made his choice loud and clear. "You know, if you really wanted me, you had plenty of chances. You had a chance today! You could've told her that it was over, sorry, I'm not in love with you. But you didn't do that. You ran after her like the little bitch you are, telling her you fucked up and it was only this time and- it doesn't matter. You made your choice. Now leave."

\-------------------------

Even after telling him to leave, she didn't expect him to get up and head out. She assumed that he'd have some smart remark, and she'd need to yell and threaten a little bit more, but she didn't expect him to move a muscle.

Which is what made it all the more unexpected when his hand came flying at her, seemingly out of nowhere, and hit her hard across the cheek. He might have even done it a second time- she couldn't be sure, too shocked for her mind to really register what was happening. Before she could even begin to react, he had grabbed a fistful of hair at the top of her head and used it to yank her neck backwards, pinning her against the couch and looming over her as he screamed in her face.

She couldn't understand what he was saying, couldn't see him clearly even if there were only inches separating them. All she remembers is hearing herself crying and pleading, _stop no you're hurting me stop_ , struggling to get away but finding her limbs suddenly paralyzed.

And then just as unexpectedly as it began, it was over. He let go of her hair and took two giant steps back from the couch, his eyes unfocused like he was looking right through her. _I'm sorry_ , he said in a hollow voice before running toward the door, nearly tripping in his haste to leave.

She grabbed her favorite blanket and threw it over herself so that she was completely covered by it, curling up into a fetal position and listening to the sound of her teeth chattering as she shook.

She didn't sleep that night.

\-------------------------

It's been over two weeks since Lindsey had managed to successfully alienate both of the women in his life in a single night. He thought that by now, things would have changed.

They have not.

Stevie doesn't talk to him, doesn't look at him. If he walks into a room, she'll get up and leave without a word. He tried being polite at first and that got him nowhere, so eventually he said fuck it, I'm going back to being a dick instead. It comes more naturally to him anyway. But still she ignores him, something that seems to come naturally to _her_. Or maybe it's not so much a conscious choice as it is that she's so strung out, she doesn't seem to respond to much of anything. He's worried about her, even if he would never admit it- he's never seen her this bad off before. And it's not just him; everyone else is concerned too. They've all pieced together what must have happened to make Carol leave and so they've been tiptoeing around both him and Stevie, but they're running out of patience and he kinda can't blame them.

He's talked to Carol a couple of times since she got back to California. She's still living in their house, so he takes that to mean that she's not completely done with him, but he also knows she has nowhere else to go. He realizes that he fucked up and he's admitted it. He's told her that he doesn't want her to leave, that he and Stevie are through and it's not going to happen again. Neither of them have brought up the fight they had back in their hotel room yet, and he doesn't plan on discussing it, because he doesn't know what to say. He shouldn't have hit her, but he's not sure that he can apologize for it when she knows better than to talk about his relationship with Stevie like that. Besides, it's not the first time it's happened.

He _is_ still horrified at what happened with Stevie, but once again he hasn't apologized beyond that one shocked 'I'm sorry' before he fled her room. If he doesn't know what to say to Carol, then he has absolutely no fucking clue what to say to her. They had gotten physical with each other before, of course, but she had always been the instigator. He hears his father's voice saying that it doesn't matter if she hit him first- it's the man's responsibility to walk away because you don't lay hands on a woman, period. But he still thinks...no, he _knows_ there's a difference this time, because he saw the look on her face. There was a genuine fear there that he'd never seen before. Rage, indignation, frustration- he was no stranger to those. This was something new.

And now that he's seen it, he can't stop. On the rare occasions that he sleeps long enough to dream, he sees those big frightened eyes and her trembling mouth pleading with him to 'stop, no, you're hurting me, stop...' Only now, in his dreams, he doesn't listen. He becomes the monster he always denied to himself that he could be and he wakes up soaked in sweat, head and heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that it wasn't real, that he would never let himself go that far.

He tries, but he never succeeds. Because he's a shit human being, whether he's awake or asleep, and maybe that's something he just can't fix.

\-------------------------

Today was a bad day.

Carol called him this afternoon, and it seemed like they were making progress- until she told him that she thought that he should quit the band.

"How the fuck could you even- this is my life, Carol, this is what I do."

"I'm not asking you to give up music altogether! But what is...you're too good for them and you already know that. You've said it yourself how many times, that they're holding you back from what you could be doing as a musician. You don't owe them anything. So what's keeping you there?" she asks, and she can see her glaring at him from 17 time zones away.

"When are you going to fucking stop giving me your opinion on things that you can't even understand? You're supposed to be supporting me, you know, not making my life harder. So why the hell aren't you doing that? Maybe if you were, we wouldn't be where we are right now."

They argued (again), she hung up on him (again), and he yanked the phone cord out of the wall and threw the whole thing to the floor. Whether it was to keep her calls from coming through or to keep himself from calling her back, he's not really sure.

After weeks of consistently arriving later and later, Stevie didn't turn up for sound check at all that evening, claiming to be sick.

"Who is she fucking now? She doesn't even know anyone here." She had made no secret of screwing her way through Australia- one night, he even watched her come back to her room with a different guy than the one she had left with- but she had a long list of 'friends' there that she had met on the Rumours tour. Now they were in New Zealand, a place where they'd spent less than 48 hours last time, but she'd apparently still managed to find companionship. Someone from Warner? Their local dealer? A total stranger? It was anybody's guess.

"Don't ask me," Mick said. "But I did see her flirting with the guy at the front desk of the hotel earlier."

"Uh huh. And now, conveniently she's 'not feeling well'."

Mick shrugged. "She really has seemed sick, I mean..."

"Sick enough to snort her body weight in cocaine every night?"

"Look, I'll talk to her again," Mick promised, as if a lecture from him about keeping sober and celibate would actually motivate _anyone_ , "but as long as she can still put on a hell of a show- that's the important part, eh?"

He walked away from Mick just as Stevie finally made her appearance, hair and makeup already complete as Sharon pulled her stage clothes off of the wardrobe rack for her to change into. It should've been a relief to see her like that, rather than with a split lip or a black eye or a limp like in his dreams, but instead it just made him angrier. And Mick was right that no matter how stoned and exhausted she looks before she goes onstage, she transforms in the moment that the spotlight shines on her. She kills it every damn time while his own performances have suffered. Not in a way that the unknowing audience would pick up on, or even in a way that would be enough for his bandmates to notice, but he _knows_ what he's capable of and what he expects from himself, and this isn't it. Playing used to be his escape even when everything else had gone to shit, and now it's just one more thing that's escaping him.

Everything's changed, and he hates her for it.

(But he hates himself more).

\-------------------------

"Oh, I am _fucked_."

Stevie jumps at the sound of her own voice, not having realized that she had been speaking aloud. Even then, it's a voice she barely recognizes as hers.

She's not well and she knows it. For four days now she's been awake almost constantly, the amount of blow she's been consuming in order to keep functioning also leaving her unable to sleep, and none of her usual go-to drugs have been able to knock her out for more than a few hours. Despite how desperately tired she is, the weariness in every cell of her body hasn't been enough to overcome her bouts of nausea and the endless cycle of thoughts plaguing her mind.

"No, I'm not going to," she announces to herself, pacing from one end of her room to the other and back again. She can't stop thinking about it, those little peach-colored pills Lindsey had first given to her on the way to Tokyo and how well she had slept when she took them. She'd run out when they left Japan and although she's hit up everyone she can think of and pulled every string she can, she hasn't been able to get her hands on any in Australia _or_ New Zealand. Now she's just getting desperate, more fixated on them than she's ever been when she's had to go without coke, but her only remaining option is the one thing she can't bring herself to do.

She's considered picking the lock and staging a robbery of Lindsey's hotel room. She attempted to bribe the guy at the front desk to give her a key, and she even begged JC to just go in and grab them for her. No luck.

(While she was at it, she asked him what he knew about Lindsey's fight with Carol, since he seemed to be the only one who saw her before her abrupt departure.

"Honestly, neither one of them had much to say to me. Buck called out of the blue and said she needed to leave, and when I got to the room it was obvious they'd had a row. I asked Carol what happened once we were alone and all she'd tell me was that they'd been arguing. She had a couple scratches, a bruise on her arm...maybe more, but she wouldn't talk about it."

"Oh. That's...thanks.")

She lets herself fall backward onto the bed and presses the heels of her hands against her eyes, but it doesn't stop her from crying out in frustration and exhaustion. What other choices does she have? None. She's tried everything.

It's not that she's afraid of him (because she's not, because she's almost forgotten that it ever happened). She was scared at the time, sure, but she doesn't think he would do something like that again, his feeble apology notwithstanding. So it has nothing to do with that. It's just that she's been doing so well at keeping her vow to act like he doesn't exist, biting her tongue until she literally draws blood as he taunts her with his barrage of insults, and now she's going to have to humiliate herself by admitting that he has something she needs.

She's so embarrassed that she even lied to Robin, pretending to doze off in the limo so that she would think she was finally able to get some sleep and go back to her own room instead of staying with Stevie like she had for the past two restless nights. Robbie wouldn't understand, especially not after the stunt Lindsey had pulled during that night's show. He must have gotten bored with only picking on her offstage, because tonight he ruined her big encore by clowning around like an idiot, lying flat on the floor and then standing behind her wearing his suit jacket on his head like one of her shawls. But she was proud that she had kept on ignoring him, other than one mouthed 'what the fuck is this?', and when she got offstage she went straight to her dressing room without a word. She knew the rest of them would take care of it for her. Hell, even Robin, who usually tried to keep from getting herself directly involved in Buckingham/Nicks drama, had threatened to give him a piece of her mind.

And now here she is, desperate enough to actually consider asking him for help.

_I just want to sleep_ , she cries deliriously to herself.


	27. we're strange allies with warring hearts (1997)

**_August 1997_ **

"Rise and shine, it's time to get ready for school," Karen calls out from the other side of the bedroom door, rapping sharply on the wood.

The dogs leap down from the foot of the bed and start yapping, no doubt hoping to be fed, but the human occupants are decidedly less enthusiastic. Lindsey rolls onto his back and groans. "But Mom, I don't wanna go today."

"We've got the interviewer from Rolling Stone coming in less than two hours," Karen reminds them. "Stevie needs to get ready and you need to get lost."

Stevie giggles sleepily, more amused by Lindsey than Karen was. "Now Mom's mad."

"Who cares. Let's cut class." Lindsey looks over at the bedside clock to confirm what Karen had said, a little surprised that he had slept this late. Of course, it had been a long night... "Mmm. Did I mention how good you look on the big screen?"

"Still thinking about that, huh?" she asks, unable to keep the shy smile off of her face as she runs her fingers across his bare chest. The album release party had been held the night before- a rather laid back event compared to parties of the past, without the massive amounts of cocaine and even more massive amounts of personal drama. She hadn't even had anything to drink, although she was tempted once it was time for the video screening. Seeing herself on camera had always been an uncomfortable thing for her, let alone in a room full of people and on a movie theater-sized screen, and at first she'd spent more time watching everyone else than she did watching their performance.

"I might be." Lindsey had been nervous about watching it too. Even though as the producer, he'd seen it more than just about anyone, he knew that he'd find a dozen more imperfections that he hadn't caught in the editing process. What he hadn't counted on was the way that viewing it for the first time on a big screen made it that much more real, reminding him of all the emotions that he'd felt on that night. Watching himself watching Stevie during Landslide, seeing himself choking back tears by the end of the song- this time, he wasn't able to fight them off. Stevie had noticed right away, the two of them sitting hand in hand beside each other, and whispered 'stop, you'll make me cry too' to try distracting him. When that didn't work, she put her arm around him and nudged him to rest his head on her shoulder, leaning over with her chin on his own head so that her hair would shield him from others' view. "And did I also mention how amazing you are?"

"Remind me," she says, humming happily as his hand travels up the back of her thigh. She had thought she'd be able to stay composed as they watched, even after Lindsey started tearing up, but she couldn't help getting misty eyed when Silver Springs began. Not only was she reliving that moment, she was thinking about how far they had come in the course of one summer. She's still not sure what came over her that night, but whatever it was, it had shattered the last of the walls between them and allowed her to give herself over to him completely. And now here they were practically living together, talking about being parents...things she'd never imagined happening six months ago.

Another knock at the door, this one more impatient. "I'm not joking, you two. Get your asses up."

"Later," Lindsey promises his disappointed girlfriend, pulling on his boxers before opening the door to let the dogs go running downstairs.

"Why not now?" She gives him a joking pout, pushing back the covers and sauntering over to him. He loves the way that she seems more comfortable in her own skin day by day, how she doesn't rush to cover up as often as she used to and how she was even bold enough to leave a semi-risque Polaroid on his pillow before she left for Phoenix. In it she was sitting backwards in a chair with one of her black shawls draped over it, bare legs visible all the way to her hipbones and plenty of cleavage on display. It might not have been a shot of her completely naked except for that red beret from the Tusk tour (which you'd better believe he'd managed to hold onto for the last decade), but it definitely got a reaction out of him.

Much like the reaction he's having now as she comes up behind him and presses herself against his back, one hand snaking around and slowly stroking his cock. "Do you really want me to stop?"

"God, no," he groans, reluctantly stepping away from her grasp. "But your assistant's gonna have my balls if I don't get out of here."

She kisses the back of his neck before going into the bathroom, noticing a little pink mark on her shoulder and making a mental note to be sure she's wearing something that covers it up. It wouldn't do to have an obvious love bite visible when a photographer's going to be in her house all afternoon, especially when she's trying to pretend that she's not in a relationship.

They had decided before the pre-tour press onslaught began that they wanted to keep their private life private. Everyone in their inner circle had caught on by now, but the official line was that they were just enjoying being real friends for the first time in decades. If pressed, like they were last night by some old acquaintance who said they 'looked awfully cozy,' they would wave it off and say they were each seeing someone (without offering an explanation as to why both significant others were mysteriously absent from the party).

After that close call, they had split up for the rest of the evening to avoid raising any more suspicions. But just like on the night of the taping, they barely made it back to her place before they were all over each other, tongues tangling and hands roaming everywhere they could reach. They hastily undressed without bothering to head upstairs to the bedroom, one of the dogs swiping an errant sock that landed in front of them and running away with their treasure.

Maybe it was the way he had been eyeing her from across the room all night or the dirty things he had been whispering in her ear while they watched their performance ("do you have any idea what I wish I was doing to you right now?"), but she was feeling brave enough to try something she'd said no to up until then. Resting her upper body against the arm of the couch, she knelt down until she felt his hands gripping the backs of her thighs and his tongue sliding across the length of her slit.

She thought he had always gotten more out of having her in this particular position than she had, even when she was 40 pounds lighter and slightly less self conscious, but she had to admit that she was feeling pretty damn good as she started rocking back and forth against his mouth while he ate her out. He sucked on her outer lips and lapped hungrily at her clit, the tip of his tongue imitating his fingers dancing over the strings of his guitar. Her nipples were brushing against the textured fabric of the couch as her breasts swayed with her movements, and she let out a loud moan when she felt his thumb gently rubbing in between her ass cheeks. It had been a long, long time since she'd let anyone touch her like that and she had forgotten how sensitive that spot was.

" _Jesus_...don't stop, baby, I'm gonna come... " She leaned forward, her clit bumping against his nose as he fucked her with his tongue. "I'm - _ohhh_. Linds."

Moving back as she tried to catch her breath, she straddled his torso and smirked at how the bottom half of his face was coated in her juices. She started kissing his chin and licking at his lips, tasting herself on him, and then let him have one last taste of his own when her tongue slipped past his teeth and into his mouth. "Mmm. That's so good, angel."

"I can tell. Someone's excited..." She sat down on his thighs and smirked, watching his flushed cock bobbing impatiently in front of her.

He growled playfully and she laughed as he pushed her onto her back, taking himself in hand and easing his way inside her. She's warm and slick and so tight around him, her inner walls enveloping his dick in that familiar way that he will never, ever get tired of- even if he made love to her every day for the rest of his life the way he hopes that he will. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume as he moved slowly inside her. "I'm so proud of you, y'know?"

"What, for sitting on your face?"

He chuckled, biting at her neck in retaliation. "Well yeah, always. But not just that."

"Oh?" she asked, giving his ass a squeeze as she raised one leg and both of them groaned softly.

"You, my dear, are magic," he said as he nuzzles her collarbone. "And you always will be."

"I'm heading out- and don't worry, I threw all my stuff under the bed," he calls out to her from the bedroom, interrupting her reminiscing, and she rolls her eyes. "No one will ever know you're living in sin with some unknown gentleman."

"Uh huh. Make sure you double check with Karen about what time you're supposed to come by," she reminds him.

"Will do. Love you," he says, and although she says it back, she's not sure if he noticed. She can hear him talking to Sara in a baby voice as she yips excitedly at him, begging for a treat before he leaves. He pretends he's ambivalent toward the dogs, but it's a different story when he thinks no one is paying attention, just like it was with Ginny. He'd bitch and moan about not wanting her on the bed with them, and then she'd come home from work to find her curled up on his chest as they snoozed on the couch. She wonders if he'll be the same someday with their baby, sending them to bed with no dessert because they didn't eat their broccoli and then sneaking a cookie up to their room later on.

"Oh fine, but don't tell your mom I let you have that," she hears him say, and she just laughs to herself.

\-------------------------

"Stevie...c'mon. I know you're not asleep."

Lindsey had returned from a boys' night out with some of the crew to find that Stevie had already gone to bed, which was unusual when the clock hadn't even struck midnight yet. He took a quick shower and then climbed in beside her, but when he went to put his arm around her waist, she deliberately rolled out of his grasp.

When she didn't respond to him again, he gave up and turned away from her. Then a few minutes later, a voice. "Goodnight, Lindsey."

"Is that- you're not going to tell me what's wrong?" Silence. "Baby...we promised we weren't going to keep things from each other. Right?"

She hesitated. Her head had been hurting all day, just enough to be irritating, and now she was feeling an ache in her lower back. She wanted to just go to sleep and deal with it tomorrow, and yet she knew she would be awake all night if she didn't get it out now. "I looked over the draft of your interview with Rolling Stone."

"Steph," he says with a sigh, folding his arms underneath his head, "if this is about me saying that maybe we'd get back together, it was a joke. He didn't take it seriously-"

"No, no, that's not it," although she _had_ nearly choked on her water when the interviewer relayed that comment to her. "Why did you tell him that you don't remember what happened in Auckland?"

"What? I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did! Or at least, you acted like you didn't know what we were talking about," she says, unhappy with how quick he was to deny it. "What, did it just slip your mind? Because _I_ remember everything that happened that night...well, the parts I was conscious for."

He scrubs a hand over his mouth to keep from making a face. How did she think he'd forget? He'd been drinking a lot that night, sure, but it's not exactly every day that you find out you're going to be a father. "Jesus, of course I remember. But I- why the hell were you even talking about it in the first place? I thought we agreed that..."

"I didn't bring it up. Chris did, and then he asked me about it. I didn't tell him anything other than what everyone already knew." She hadn't been thrilled by the topic, so she just related the part of the story that the audience had witnessed, rather than act like she'd had a memory lapse. "You could've just gone 'yeah, what she said' rather than try to make me look like a liar."

"I _wasn't_. Look, it kinda blindsided me and then I just wanted to change the subject. It's still not easy to talk about. You know that as well as I do."

"Yeah. No shit." He leans over to turn on the bedside lamp and she stops him. "Keep it off."

He reaches for her hand instead. "It's just that I'm not proud of how I acted. If I had it to do all over again-"

"Well, you don't," she says, unwilling to take his hand. "So just keep on making yourself sound like a saint if that's what's gonna make you feel better."

"Wait, what? How did I make myself sound like a saint? I admitted that I purposely tried to fuck up the show. How is-"

"It's not just that!" Of course it isn't, it never is in these conversations. She starts out with something small to get him on the defensive and only then will she bring out what's really bothering her.

Deep breath. "Then will you tell me what it is?"

"How do you not know?" she asks to buy herself time, sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to him. She doesn't want to talk about it but she's in too deep now, there's no way she can convince him that everything's fine and he'll just turn around and go to sleep. "You act so high and mighty, but you're not perfect either. And yet every time you tell the story about leaving the band, you might as well just hold up a sign saying 'it was all Stevie's fault'."

"What? That's not true!" He's tried to couch it under the guise of creative differences, of wanting to try something new and get some space in between him and his past. It's not a secret that Stevie wasn't at her best at that point in time, but he left that part of the tale to her- or so he thought.

"Isn't it? You couldn't get away from me fast enough."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He realizes that they'd never talked about this before, not really. He'd poured his heart out to her when he knew she wouldn't remember it later, if she even was able to comprehend his words as he said them, just hoping against hope that _something_ would get through to her. Sometimes she would nod and hum like she understood, but she never had anything but one word replies to give in return. Later on he had asked her therapist about it, once she had sobered up, but he told Lindsey that the subject would be too upsetting for her when she was still in a fragile state. And so until now, it went unsaid. "Stevie...goddamn. Why do you think I went back and forth about it so many times? Just to fuck with you?"

She _did_ think that, actually, that he was angry and wanted her to suffer. Wanted her to break down and beg him to stay. The funny thing was, that was never going to happen- because she didn't think he'd ever really leave. They had always been a team and yes, things were bad right then, but they'd survived worse and they would survive this too. Or so she thought. "I. I don't know."

"Well, it wasn't." He sees her shoulders slump almost imperceptibly and regrets the harshness of his tone, reaching out to gently touch her lower back, and he's encouraged when she doesn't pull away. "Baby. Listen to me. I know it wasn't right, that I was making it harder on you, but it wasn't...there was always a part of me trying to convince myself that I should stay. That's what I was wrestling with."

"So then why didn't you?" she asks softly. She knows the answer, but she needs to hear it for herself.

"Honestly? Because I woke up one morning and realized that if I kept living like that, if I didn't change something, I was going to die that way." She turns around when he doesn't say anything else, unsure why he's gone quiet, and she's surprised to see that he's crying. Really crying, the shoulders shaking, hand scrubbing over his face kind of crying, and everything else is instantly forgotten as she moves over to sit beside him and starts stroking his hair. "I'm sorry, Steph, I never...I was so chickenshit. I knew I was too much of a pussy to just walk away so I wanted you to hate me. All those things I said, that I would never forgive you for killing her and that I wished it was you who died instead," and he doesn't miss the way her fingers still for just a moment when he says that, "it was all on purpose. I wanted to make sure I wouldn't have a choice to come back, because I knew once I said all that shit, it'd be over for us."

Now she doesn't know what to say, stunned by his answer and still unsure what to believe. She can't let either of them off the hook that easily. "But you...even still. You were angry at me, I know you were. And you had every right to be."

"Not like that, though." He's still crying, past the point of trying to get it under control, and she wraps her arm loosely around his neck and kisses the top of his head as she whispers quiet words of reassurance. "After she died...we never really found our way back to each other, y'know? And it was easy to blame you for that, not gonna lie. It was easier to stay bitter than to admit that...I felt like I failed at everything. I couldn't save her, I couldn't save you, so I just quit trying."

"Linds...no one in their right mind would blame _you_ for that. You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped, and I wasn't exactly easy to deal with. It was never your job to fix me."

He has to admit that she's right about that one. He had been cautiously optimistic when she went into rehab, hoping she would come back as someone resembling her old self, but he quickly realized that she had just traded one addiction for another and she was no closer to being the girl that he used to know. "I could've tried harder. I should have. I mean, isn't that what you're supposed to do for people you love?"

"You didn't love me," she says, her tone sad but resigned, not accusing. "Not then."

"Jesus Christ, of course I did!" He lifts his head abruptly, shaking off her embrace. "How can you even- I loved you so fucking much. Don't you get that?" She sits back and draws her knees up to her chest protectively, making herself smaller, and he curses himself silently as he rubs his eyes again. "Shit...babe, I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you. It's just- goddamnit. I have never _not_ loved you, I promise you that. But watching someone you love self-destruct when it doesn't seem like there's anything you can do to stop it, it's so hard."

Now she's sobbing too, and he wonders how it came to be that they've cried together more in the past six months than they had in the 20 years before that, and what might have been different if they'd had all these hard conversations a decade ago. "Linds?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry that I put you through all that and..."

"Sssh. I know. You weren't intentionally trying to hurt me, I realize that now. I just couldn't stand feeling so helpless." He tells her how it was like being back in that gray-hued hospital conference room ( _what do you mean, there's nothing you can do? shouldn't you be able to just FIX it? isn't that your fucking job?_ ), being told you have a choice, but none of them are good ones and all of them are going to hurt like hell. Only this time it played out over years rather than days. "I kept telling myself I should be over it all by then. You, her...like I said, I was too chickenshit to deal with having to lose someone, having to say goodbye, all over again. So the only option I saw was to get some distance. And to do that..."

"You wanted me to hate you," she finishes. And the irony of it all was that she still didn't hate him- well, okay, she might've hated him a little. But it was insignificant compared to how much she had hated herself. They were always alike in that way, hiding their insecurities behind big egos and even bigger defense mechanisms.

She could use something to hide behind right now, anything to escape the sense of shame she feels at being confronted with just how much damage she's really done over the years. To know it is one thing, is hard enough, but hearing it laid out like this is something else altogether. She accepts that it's part of that whole concept of making amends, having to sit with those feelings and accept that you fucked up instead of finding ways to keep hiding. But she still doesn't like it.

"Listen," he says, reaching out and cupping her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away a few of the teardrops on her cheeks. It kills him to see her like this, thinking of how long she spent believing that he hated her so much that he couldn't even stand to look at her, that in his mind he'd be better off if she was dead. He knows that once again, he can't just say that he's sorry as if that would make it all disappear. There's no magic here, no spells to make it vanish behind a few words and a puff of smoke. He's going to have to prove it to her instead and it's going to take time to rebuild what he broke. "No more, okay? From now on, whatever happens, we're in it together. You're stuck with me, alright, I'm not going anywhere. I promise you."

She knows he means it...at least, for now. She wants to believe him.

**_later that night_ **

He watches her head for the bathroom, sees the light switch on from where it shines underneath the door, and a few seconds later he hears her talking to herself. It sounds like a question, although he's not able to make out the words. He closes his eyes and listens to the sound of her rummaging through the cabinets, knowing she's probably gathering everything she needs for her pre-bedtime skin routine.

When she comes back, she lies down on her stomach and sighs. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she assures him, and he can't tell if she's close to laughing or crying as her hand wraps around his wrist. "But you won't guess what happened."

He's mildly confused, because there's usually only so many things that happen in the bathroom. At least, when you're in there by yourself. "Uh?"

"I got my period."


	28. my love is an anchor tied to you (1980)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{and we're back to 1980. Here it comes, the moment you've all been waiting for...but on a serious note, the first scene comes with another warning for violence that may be triggering to some. As always- comments, questions, concerns are all welcome, and you can feel free to send me a private message if you'd rather do it that way.
> 
> Here we go...}}

**_March 1980_ **

It took a few tries before Lindsey realized that the knocks on his door weren't just in his imagination.

He was slumped down in an oversized armchair, cradling a bottle of whiskey in both hands and staring at his bare feet, when he heard someone tapping on the door of his hotel room. Not just someone. Stevie. But...no. It couldn't be. The last time he saw her was earlier that night, striding past him without a word as she walked backstage. A few people (not him) had tried to stop her, to ask if she was okay, and she nodded tightly at them even though he could see the tears forming in her eyes.

So there's no way she'd be knocking right now- at least, not without kicking the door with her boots and yelling at him to open the fuck up. He's obviously been drinking too much, he knows that already, and now he's hearing things. Maybe if he closes his eyes...no, she's not there. But he still hears it.

Convinced enough to investigate, he gets up and goes over to the door. He clears his throat before he reaches for the knob, runs a hand over his hair and tugs at his unbuttoned shirt in a futile attempt to smooth out the wrinkles.

She looks...maybe not _well_ , but no worse for the wear since he had seen her a few hours ago. She's got her favorite blanket wrapped around her shoulders and underneath he can see one of his old t-shirts. It looks bigger on her than usual, or maybe it's just the leggings emphasizing her skinny calves, but either way she's visibly thinner than she was at the beginning of the tour. "Uh. Hey?"

"Hey. Can I..." He must look nervous, because she gives him a small but reassuring smile. "I come in peace," she vows shyly, right hand held up. "Just thought maybe, I dunno, we could talk?"

"Yeah, sure, yeah." She appears as relieved as he feels when she steps into his suite. "Do you, ah, want something to drink?"

"Sure, whatever you're having- do you mind if I use your bathroom for a sec?" she asks, and he nods and gestures toward the door.

She springs into action as soon as she locks the door behind herself, quickly zeroing in on the little brown leather bag next to the sink. Good thing he travels light. She unzips it and inspects the contents- toothpaste, razor, a few condoms with Japanese packaging...and pill bottles! The first one was a painkiller (she's already got those) and the second was Valium (tried it, didn't work). Fuck. Where is it? She starts digging more frantically, accidentally knocking over the things she had already removed from the bag. _Shit!_

"I'm okay!" he hears her call out from inside the bathroom after something clatters to the floor, and he doesn't think much of it. He assumes she's in there getting high, and while it seems kinda strange that she would bother to hide it like that, he's preoccupied with feeling both encouraged and guilty that she had come to him. Encouraged because maybe this meant she was on her way to forgiving him for everything that had gone on in the last month. At the very least, she didn't want to fight anymore and was ready to forget it and be done with it. He could finally have a chance to apologize. It wasn't something he had thought much about, not when he didn't know what to say and she wasn't speaking to him anyhow, but this might be a start.

At least, it _could_ be if he was able to stop replaying what happened during the show over and over in his mind. He hadn't meant to do what he did, certainly hadn't planned it ahead of time, and he can hear his father's voice asking 'what the hell did you go and do that for? What's that going to help?'. It had been mean-spirited and he had been too drunk to savor the moment of satisfaction that washed over him when he saw her red-faced and about to cry, the moment that had lasted all but about half a second before he remembered that he's nothing more than an asshole and a bully and this is why he's going to end up alone.

He doesn't deserve it after how he's treated her, but she's here now and he's going to make sure she won't regret giving him a chance.

Meanwhile, Stevie had discovered a second door in the bathroom that led into the bedroom. _Thank God_. She crept toward the suitcases that he had left open on the floor and knelt down, trying to avoid his line of sight. _Well, he clearly doesn't have a woman packing for him anymore._ She felt around in the mess of wadded up shirts and jeans until she heard something rattle inside a shoe. _Is that-_

"What the fuck are you doing?"

She gasps out loud in fright and quickly jumps to her feet. "Jesus, you-"

"What are you doing, Stevie."

"I, uh, you left this shirt in the bathroom," she says, pointing toward the suitcase, "and I was just putting it back."

"That one on top?" He knows she's lying even before she nods, but he just wants to give her a second of false security. He fucking hates that ugly shirt and only wears it at Carol's insistence. "You're full of shit. I'm only gonna ask you one more time- why are you in here?"

He honestly isn't sure what her answer will be. Looking for coke would be his first guess, that she ran out of it in the bathroom and needed one more bump, but she always knew exactly how much she had and he's not who she would go to if she wanted to score.

"I'm," and now she's starting to cry again, "I just wanted more of those pills you have. They help me sleep and I...p-please."

"So you thought you'd...are you serious with this?"

She nods, and he can't tell if the tears are legit or manufactured as a distraction. They look real, but he should know by now that nothing's real with her anymore. "I'm so tired and n-nothing else has worked. I just didn't wanna ask you... "

"Why are you here?" He's such a fool, sitting there thinking that maybe she really wants to talk to him, getting his hopes up that maybe he won't have to spend another night getting drunk all by his lonesome. "Is that the only reason you came here, to try and steal pills?"

"I'm sorry, okay, I'm sorry. Don't be mad. You don't understand, there's something wrong with m-"

"I understand just fine," he cuts off her pleading, "you're a fucking junkie whore looking for a fix. You worm your way in here smiling and acting all sweet, and then- what were you gonna do if you couldn't find them? Cause I'll tell you, I've got 'em, but they're not in there." He swears she lets out a little whine of desperation when she hears that. "So what now? You gonna offer to suck my dick as a trade?"

She screws up her face in disgust. "Oh, you _wish_."

"Why wouldn't you? You're too good for me all of a sudden?" He shakes his head, smirking bitterly. "What makes me the only guy you'd turn down? You'll screw Peter the bodyguard's friend ten minutes after you met him, but you won't-"

"How the hell do you know about that?"

He laughs at the startled confusion written all over her face. "Cause I heard him and Peter talking about you. Guess his friend was looking for a fuck, and Peter said he knew you'd put out if he left you two alone once you got high. Told him you were the easiest lay he ever had."

"So that's why you..." she stammers, looking down at her toes as she shifts her weight from one foot to another. She can't believe she played right into their hands like that, even if she had been the one who came on to the guy first- she's not sure if that makes it better or worse.

"Why I tried to knock him out? Ha! No. I did that because Peter made a joke about pimping you out to the rest of his buddies for a profit."

"He did not!" He could have, she barely knew the guy in any sense except biblically. Certainly not enough to know what he would or wouldn't say behind her back, but how else is she supposed to respond to something like that?

"You're calling me a liar? " He watches her wrap her arms around herself protectively, moving backwards until she's leaning against the wall. It was something that he really had meant to keep secret from her, but right now it was more important that he not be the only one in the room who feels like a fool, betrayed by someone who just wanted to use them. "Everyone knows you're a slut, _baby_."

"I'm...I'm gonna go. This was a bad idea. I dunno why the hell I thought you'd actually _help_ me," she hisses.

"You didn't ask for help! You lied your way in here and then you tried to steal what you wanted, so don't act like you're the victim now."

She shakes her head and moves toward the door, but he blocks the doorway and she stops before she's within arm's reach of him. "Just let me leave."

"What, so you can move on and try the same thing on the next guy? Bet you'll spread your legs for him," he taunts.

"You're disgusting! Get out of my way."

"Oh, _I'm_ disgusting? When you're -" he shouts in her face, taking a step forward, and she automatically flinches. Her eyes are huge and frightened, the way they are in his dreams, her whole body visibly tensed up in anticipation.

He loses it.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" he demands to know, grabbing onto her slight shoulders and jerking her back and forth. "You're fucking scared of me now?"

"No, I'm sorry, no," she pleads, chin tucked down to her chest and eyes squeezed shut as she sobs.

"Then why won't you look at me? Look at me, goddamnit!"

As soon as he says it, he wishes he hadn't. She lifts her head haltingly, as if she's fighting some invisible force, trembling and sniffling and chewing nervously on her bottom lip, and he realizes two things. One, that this is no longer a fair fight. This isn't the same girl who would go toe to toe with him, who was unafraid to defend herself and couldn't be cowed into backing down. And two, that if it was anyone else standing in his place right now, he'd be tearing them from limb to limb.

He lets go of her shoulders, pushing her away from him. "Just go, Stevie."

She sneaks a glance at him and then looks back down, seemingly unsure if he really means it.

"Did you hear me? I _said_ , get the hell out of here!"

She nods and then hurries toward the door as quickly as she can without breaking into a run, like someone trying to escape from a grizzly without triggering their instinct to give chase. He stays rooted to the spot until he hears the door click shut behind her and then dazedly stumbles out into the front room. His eyes land on the two glasses he had left behind when he went to look for her, one with a few sips already taken from it and the other still untouched, and his hand comes flying out of his pocket to knock them both onto the floor, a stream of profanities pouring from his throat as the dark liquid forms rivulets in between the ice cubes and broken glass strewn across the wood flooring.

He notices a familiar plaid covering the back of the couch- Stevie's blanket, forgotten in her hurry to leave. It smells like her, like cigarettes and weed and her favorite tea and that moisturizer she slathers all over herself every night, and he collapses down into the sofa and pulls it over his head so that no one, not even the walls, can see him cry.

\-------------------------

As soon as Stevie heard the words, she knew it was true. She tried to deny it, of course, but in her heart she knew.

"Stevie? Don't get mad at me for asking," Robin said tentatively, holding back Stevie's hair as she crouched over the toilet. She had headed straight for Robbie's room after leaving Lindsey's the night before, and there was no explanation needed when Robin opened the door to find her a crying, shivering mess. She spent the night trying to console her as Stevie worked her way through the minibar, and both women had finally fallen asleep as the sun was rising- only to be woken up when Stevie had yet another bout of nausea.

Robin handed her a cup of water once she was able to lift her head. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but I think you really...when was the last time you had your period?"

"What the hell, Robbie, I just had it in-" She holds up her fingers as if counting off the weeks, but there's nothing to count. "Uh. When I was in Florida."

"Okay. That was the middle of January. So a little over two months ago," Robin said gently. She had tried broaching the subject the day before yesterday, but Stevie's only response was to tell her to fuck off, and she knew her friend was so drunk right then that she wouldn't have been able to answer the question anyway.

"No. That can't, there has to be," Stevie stammers, but she knows for sure she didn't get it in Japan or in Australia. How did she not notice that? "I mean, I've gone longer than that without...and I would know, if I was. Before, I knew right away, I knew something was...I'm just sick, you know I'm always sick on tour."

"You are. But you're not getting any better, hon, and it's been...what, almost a month since you started not feeling well?" Robin decided it would be overkill to point out how her illness had come on a few weeks after she and Lindsey had begun the latest rekindling of their relationship.

"Longer than that," she admitted. At the McDonald's, the day after Valentine's day...shit. "You know what? I just need to take better care of myself. I get it. I'll lay off the blow, I'll cut back on everything else, get more sleep, and I'll be fine. You'll see."

Robin understood why she was skeptical. Truth is, it hadn't even occurred to her that this might be more than depression and a prolonged drug binge until her last phone call to her fiance, who had listened to her recount of the past week and said 'So how'll Lindsey take it when he finds out he's gonna be a daddy?'

'What? Why would he-'

'Rob, listen to everything you just said. She's pregnant.'

When he put it like that...the tiredness, the vomiting, the aches and pains and the way she couldn't tolerate the smell of most foods...she became convinced that he was right. But she knew Stevie, and she knew it would be pointless to argue with her until she was ready to accept the truth for herself, so she just nodded and patted her clammy hand. "There's a pharmacy on the corner. I'm going to go down there and see if they carry those new home pregnancy tests that they have in America. You just...think about it while I'm gone, okay?"

"Yeah. I'll think."

\-------------------------

When Robin came back, Stevie hadn't moved from where she was sitting on the bathroom floor. "Oh. Hey."

"Hey...did you throw up any more?" Stevie blinked, then shook her head although she wasn't actually sure. She couldn't remember anything that had happened since Robin had left, like she had been comatose and just now awakened, and the shopping bag on the counter was the only clue that it wasn't just some fucked up fever dream. Pregnant. She was pregnant. "I got the kit. It looks complicated, but the pharmacist said you just follow the instructions. Are you...do you think you're ready to try?"

"But what if we can't- are the instructions in English?"

Robin tilts her head to one side. "Stevie...we're in New Zealand. They speak English here, remember?"

Stevie looks at Robin and the two of them both burst out laughing, like the moment in a storm when the heavens finally open up and rain comes pouring out of thick black clouds. She rests her head on Robin's shoulder, her body shaking with laughter that morphs into big gulping sobs as she thinks of what she's about to do, about what's already been done. "Robbie...how am I going to...I haven't..."

"I know," she says, filling in the gaps in the way that only a best friend can. "You're going to be okay. One step at a time. Take the test and then once you know, you'll start figuring out what to do."

"I'm keeping it. No matter what, I'm keeping it. I'll raise it by myself if I have to." She wasn't going to let someone else make the decision for her this time, least of all Lindsey. _Fuck. Lindsey. How the hell was she supposed to tell him? How the hell would he react? Fuck._

Robin gives her a hug. "I believe in you, and I'm gonna be here for you no matter what happens and what you decide. I promise, alright? But first, you need to pee."

\-------------------------

Minutes later they were both intently studying the test instructions, trying to figure out what to mix with what. "Robbie, why didn't you pay more attention in chemistry?"

"Why didn't _you_?"

"Because I was too busy passing notes to you about that boy sitting behind us," she admitted sheepishly.

"See? Same for me! You were always a bad influence...damnit. Is it okay if I go get Sharon? I know she's done this before, and I don't want us to screw this up, but if you don't want her to..."

"It's fine," Stevie said with a shrug. If the test was positive, which she already knew it was, everyone was going to find out sooner or later. Might as well start spreading the good news now.

She heard Robin talking on the phone, then a knock at the door, then the two women speaking quietly to each other before Sharon peeked around the doorway. "I heard you're looking for a scientist?"

Stevie nods and Sharon steps inside the bathroom, taking a quick glance at the instruction leaflet before she starts pouring various liquids into the test tubes. She doesn't ask questions, and Stevie knows that's probably because Robin already got her up to speed, but it makes her even more grateful to have friends like these. God knows she's going to need them now more than ever, especially since she's not sure who else she'll be able to count on. Lindsey? Not likely. The band? They'll only care about how it might affect the tour. Her parents? She can already see their faces when she tells them, and they're not smiling...

"And now we set a timer for two hours," Sharon announces as she washes her hands. "But while you wait, you've gotta be careful not to bump the tube or the table it's sitting on, because if you shake it the colors might get screwed up. If it's positive, the color will sink to the bottom and you'll see a ring there."

"You sure this will work?" Stevie asks, looking at both women for reassurance.

"The pharmacist told me that if it's negative, to try again in a week because you might not be far enough along yet," Robin says. "But if it's positive...like Sharon said, the colors aren't going to change unless you really are pregnant."

"So. I guess I just have to wait." She doesn't even feel anxious, just resigned. And tired. The same way she's been tired for the last month...because she's having a baby.

Her instinct is to go to her purse, to rummage through the contents and find something to make it all go away for a while. Just the thought of getting a fix is calming, her body anticipating the familiar relief that came with temporarily feeling a little (or a lot) less. It's what she always did when she started feeling this way.

But this time she can't. Because she's having a baby. "I'm...I wanna go lie down."

"That sounds like a good idea," Robin agrees, pulling the covers over her like a mother tucking in a child after she got back into bed. "Do you need anything?"

The bed suddenly seems so huge and empty, too vast for her alone (even though she's not alone anymore). "Can...do you guys think you could stay? I don't want to talk but I just. I don't want to be by myself."

"Of course," Sharon says, Robin nodding along as they each take a spot on either side of her. Robin reaches for Stevie's hand and Sharon does the same, the two women then playfully reaching for each other's free hand with their arms crossed over Stevie.

They all laugh quietly, nervously. And then they wait.

\-------------------------

For two hours, nobody speaks. But Stevie thinks.

She thinks about a lot of things. About her cravings for soba noodles and miso soup, and about those black market birth control pills she took in Japan, and the number of times they must have had sex in that first week alone. About accusing him of wanting to 'accidentally' get her pregnant last fall and about suddenly feeling so tired on Valentine's day and about everything she's drunk and snorted and swallowed in the last two months. About the baby that she didn't keep and the family that Lindsey thought they could be and a tiny newborn with dark hair and big blue eyes.

She thinks about this event they went to last year for a childrens' charity, how they had these pictures and stories of babies that had all sorts of illnesses and deformities. No one had really told her what to expect beforehand, and she got so upset about those poor kids that she ended up ducking out for a while to get high in the back of the limo until she could stop crying. But before she left, she remembers hearing that some of them had mothers who drank or did drugs while they were pregnant. Some of them had ended up in jail, and some had ODed. Some had just abandoned their babies altogether.

_Not my baby. I would never leave her no matter what but please, God, just let her be okay._ It's a girl. She might not have even gotten official confirmation that she's pregnant yet, but she's certain it's a girl and _I know I've done everything wrong up to this point, but that's changing right this very second and just please, let my baby be okay._

It's the only thing that matters to her right now, the little person growing inside her. She knows she's going to have to deal with Lindsey soon enough, but she can't think about him or how he's going to react just yet. Will he even care? She can't believe she's asking herself that question when just a few months ago, there wouldn't have been a doubt in her mind that he would, regardless of what might have been going on between them right then. But now he's so different. And she hasn't even started to process what went on last night...

"It's time," Robin says softly. "Ready to go look?"

She nods and stands up, looking at the closed bathroom door and feeling like she's about to step inside the wardrobe that leads to Narnia, a portal to a new life. Robin and Sharon are right behind her, both looking more apprehensive than she does. She already knows.

She pushes the door open and her eyes go straight to the tube on the counter, the one with the unmistakable dark ring at the bottom. She may not be surprised but she still starts to cry, her hand automatically going to rest protectively on her flat stomach as if she could shield her little one from everything that's yet to come. _We'll get through this, somehow. I promise. Everything's gonna be alright._

"I'm keeping it," she vows again, her voice unwavering.

Robin puts her arms around her shoulders from behind, steadying her. "Then congratulations, momma."

\-------------------------

**_the next day_ **

"Why did she even bother to show up?" Lindsey asks, shaking his head in disgust after Stevie had once again stormed out (staggered, really) mid-sound check.

Christine rolls her eyes. "You bitch when she's here, you bitch when she's not...what is it you want?"

"I'm not _bitching_. She sounded like shit and I told her that." It had been two days since he last saw her during that horrible confrontation in his hotel room, and he had been taken aback by how much worse she looked and acted when she arrived at the venue. She was shivering like she was freezing cold, even though she was visibly sweating, and twice she had suddenly stopped singing and looked around in confusion as if she'd forgotten where she was and what she was doing.

"Whatever it is, you're not helping," Christine says. "She'll have a couple bumps before she goes onstage and she'll be fine, you know that."

Mick shrugs, nervously twirling one of his drumsticks. "I'm not sure, mate, she seems pretty bad off today. Think she needs a doctor or something?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, she's just on another bender. Have any of you even seen her since the last show ended?" Lindsey asks, and the other three all shake their heads. "Course you haven't, cause she's been off getting loaded and whoring herself out to- come on, you know it's true," he says when Chris starts to object. "She doesn't need a doctor, she needs a fuckin intervention."

"You're not exactly one to talk," John points out, seeing as how Lindsey himself had already been drunk when he got there and had been getting progressively drunker ever since. "Maybe you should slow down a little, we've still got a few hours 'till showtime."

Mick and Christine nod in agreement and...what the hell? "Where the fuck do you winos get off telling _me_ to stop drinking? Enough of this, I'm done. Screw you all."

"Well, that was productive," Christine remarks as he stomps away, reaching for her bottle of Dom. "Glad we patched that up."

\-------------------------

He hates her. God, he hates her.

Maybe he should've just given her the fucking pills, he thinks to himself as he opens another bottle of booze that he swiped from the catering table. He doesn't know what she's taken or who she's screwed since then, but it doesn't seem like she's gotten any sleep and- no. Fuck that. He doesn't owe her a goddamn thing. He's not the bad guy here, he's not the one who thought she could lie and steal and he'd just roll over and take it because he was so desperate for even a crumb of her attention.

She wouldn't even look at him today, let alone speak to him, but maybe that's for the best. He doesn't want to find out what he'd see in her eyes, if it would be the same fearful expression that's permanently seared into his memory. Fuck her for trying to make him feel sorry for her, to feel guilty enough that he'd cave and give her what she wanted. He shouldn't have hit her, he knows that, but she was making a bigger deal out of it than it needed to be. For chrissakes, she was the one who got off on being roughed up in the first place. He never would've done any of that shit, their whole little fucked up 'game', if it hadn't been her idea. She was the one who liked being slapped and bitten and held down while she acted like she didn't want it. So what's the difference?

He knows there's a difference, that she trusted he'd never actually hurt her (trusted in the past tense, because she sure as hell doesn't anymore) and that she was always the one in control. Shit, wasn't that the truth. When was she ever _not_ in control where he was concerned? What she wanted from him, she got. All he ever wanted, from the day they met, was to love her. She knew that and she took full advantage, even after they broke up. And as for him, he's never intended to hurt her, at least not physically. He just wanted her to see what it was like to feel ashamed and powerless for a change. But once again, he's the only one who feels that way. Because her defensive reaction when he stepped toward her was genuine- he could tell that even she was surprised by it.

The one person on earth who he truly loves doesn't trust him. Is afraid of him. How's that for powerless? And when's it finally going to be her turn?

Fuck her. It's all her fault, anyway.

\-------------------------

_"Lindsey was angry - just mad at me," recalls Nicks. "That wasn't a one-time thing. Lindsey and I had another huge thing that happened onstage in New Zealand. We had some kind of a fight, and he came over - might have kicked me, did something to me, and we stopped the show. He went off, and we all ran at breakneck speed back to the dressing room to see who could kill him first. Christine got to him first, and then I got to him second - the bodyguards were trying to get in the middle of all of us."_ -Stevie, 1997

Complete and utter mayhem.

There was no other way to describe the scene that took place after the show that night. No encores, no final bows, just the five band members rushing offstage as all hell broke loose.

Lindsey made the mistake of stopping mid-stride and turning around to look behind him, and was greeted with Christine's open palm colliding with his cheek. "How dare you? Don't you ever fucking do that again!"

"What the hell, you're-" He didn't have time to finish his sentence before he felt something cold splashing in his face. "You bitch! Did you just throw your goddamn drink at-"

Again, there was no time for a complete thought before he was interrupted. But this time, it wasn't by Christine. "I _hate_ you! I fucking HATE you!"

Stevie had managed to make her way over to the group on her wobbly legs, made worse by her chunky heels and flailing arms that were swinging vaguely toward him. Robin, Sharon, and Christie were all trying to restrain her, but her fury was making her stronger than all three of them combined as Robin signaled desperately for one of the bodyguards to get between her and Lindsey.

"You hate me, huh? Why don't you say that to me when you can actually stand up your own?" he taunted, despite being nearly as unsteady as she was. "Cause once you crash and need another fix-"

"I'll say it a'many times I've gotta," she shouted through loud sobs and gasps for breath. "I hate you so much, and I never wanna see you 'gan. I mean it!" She threw her arms out wide, nearly falling over. "Iss me or him. So choose."

"Stevie, come on. Let's go," Robin insisted, trying to dodge Stevie's uncoordinated swipes in Lindsey's direction.

"You really wanna make them choose between us?" Jet the bodyguard practically had Stevie in a bear hug, trying to hold her arms down, and Lindsey stood right at his back so that he could look at her over his shoulder. "I'm the one who's holding this band together! Do you how fucking sick of putting up with your shit we all are? "

He waited for the others to back him up, but all he got was a dissenting vote from Mick. "You've got some nerve saying that after the scene you caused tonight- how could you do that to us? To Stevie?"

"Oh, you would take her side, wouldn't you? Couldn't lose your little junkie buddy," he sneered, angrily sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand before he turned back to Stevie. "You eating his ass again too? Dunno how you have time in-"

"Don't you...I don't...you're not...I'm neverrrr..." she slurred, and then her knees buckled without warning and her eyes rolled back in her head, Jet barely able to keep her from collapsing to the ground.

Everyone gasped, almost in unison, and Lindsey automatically knelt down on the floor as the bodyguard tried to lay her down. His first aid training kicking into gear, he took off his jacket and balled it up underneath her legs to keep them elevated before grabbing her wrist to check for a pulse. Robin shook her shoulder and called her name, trying in vain to wake her up as they watched her chest shallowly rise and fall. "Damnit, Steph! Come on, c'mon...what the fuck did she take, Rob?"

"She's not ODing, you son of a bitch, she's pregnant!"


	29. girlfriend in a coma (1980)

**_March 1980_ **

If Lindsey had to guess, he'd say that there was only about a minute in between when Stevie passed out and when she came to again. But he'll be goddamned if those 60 seconds didn't feel like years.

"She's...no," he stuttered, unsure what he was saying no to as two medics made their way through the group.

One knelt down at her side, forcing him to move. "Sir, we need you to get back."

"She's...she's pregnant?" he said weakly, looking at Robin for confirmation, and she nods. "And she has a heart condition, she's..."

"Did I...where am I?" Stevie mumbled, opening her eyes and then closing them again.

"Stevie, thank God, you're -"

He tried to reach for her, but the medic stopped him. "Let us handle this, sir. So you know how far along she is?"

"Uh, no," he said, hating that he couldn't answer the question, that he knew exactly as much as this total stranger did about _his_ baby...it is his, isn't it?

"She's not sure," Robin answered for him, "but probably about two months?"

"Two months and she didn't fucking tell me?!" His outburst caught Stevie's attention and she stopped talking to the other medic, squinting and trying to lift her head.

"Ma'am, just relax. We need you to stay lying down," he said before turning back to Lindsey, looking irritated. "Do you mind, sir?"

Robin hauled him to his feet as the medics kept talking quietly to her, checking her vital signs. "Jesus, Lindsey, you're not helping."

"Why the fuck didn't she tell me, huh? Unless it's not mine..."

"It's yours," she said in a voice indicating that she wished it wasn't, both of them keeping a close watch on Stevie. "She said the last time she got her period was right before you guys left."

He snorts. "And she fucked a lot of people between then and now-"

"She was already feeling sick when you were in Japan," Robin pointed out.

He knows she wasn't with anyone else while they were there; they barely left each other's side. Which means... "So she was just gonna- what? Hope I wouldn't notice?"

"She only found out yesterday morning, alright? And she wasn't sure how to tell you, but she wanted to wait until she was sober. She hasn't touched anything since then." Tears starting to trickle down her cheeks, Robin let out a long sigh. "I told her that I wasn't sure it was a good idea, her going cold turkey like that, but she wouldn't listen."

"Yeah, well," Lindsey said, fist clenching and unclenching at his side. He was vaguely aware of all the others standing around him, whispering to each other in hushed tones, but all he could focus on was Stevie. The medic shined a light in her pupils and she blinked, then looked up at him dazedly before her eyes shut again.

"Stay with us, ma'am," he urged, then said something to his partner that Lindsey couldn't understand, what with the medical jargon and the Kiwi accent. "We're waiting on a stretcher so we can get you to the hospital and have you checked out."

"Nnnn...I don' wanna go. I'll go home. I'ca walk," she protested.

"You're not walking anywhere," Robin said, gently stroking her hair as the stretcher arrived and her eyelids fluttered. "But you've gotta stay awake for now, okay? I'll be right there with you."

"I'm coming too," Lindsey decided quickly, unwilling to let her out of his sight.

Robin gave him the dirtiest look known to mankind. "Like hell you are! You've done enough already."

"She's my- that's...it's my fucking baby!" The murmurs around him increased and he pretended not to notice. Is anyone really surprised? It's not like they didn't already know that the two of them had been sleeping together again.

His eyes met Stevie's briefly, but her stare was too glazed over for him to read, making it hard to tell if she even recognized him. The medics started to roll her away and he automatically followed. "There's not room for you in the ambulance, sir."

"But that's _my_ -" JC put a hand on his arm to stop him and he shook it off. "I should be going with her!"

"The cars are out back. I'll have someone take you," he assured him.

"Well, let's go! What the hell are we waiting for?" The rest of the group- his bandmates, the bodyguards, Sharon, and Sara- were all silent now, still in shock. "Are you guys just gonna stand there and look at each other? Show's over. You can fuck off now."

John rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing. "Maybe you should have somebody go with you, mate-"

"And do what, hold my hand? I'm fine."

"Jet will go too," JC said firmly, ignoring Lindsey's sputtered protests. "Call us as soon as you know anything, yeah? We'll be back at the hotel waiting."

Mick cleared his throat to get everyone's attention before the group could disperse. "I think it'd be best if we kept all of... _this_...to ourselves for now."

"That means _you_ ," Lindsey barked at Sara. If she started burning up the trans-Pacific phone lines and Carol found out...shit. Carol. What the fuck is he going to tell her?

Fortunately for him, Sara nodded in agreement right away. She looked shaken up enough with worry about Stevie that he was confident that she wouldn't sell him out- for Stevie's sake, at least.

He all but broke into a run on his way out to where the cars were waiting, JC and Jet trailing behind. There's no time to waste; he has to get to her. "Take me to the hospital."

"Pardon?" the driver asked, confused by how his passenger had flung open the door and thrown himself into the back seat. "This is a big city. Which hospital are you talking about?"

"Fuck if I know! Didn't you see that fucking ambulance that just left? Follow it!"

JC explained through the window that they were headed to the university hospital. "Right then, that shouldn't take long. It's just four or five kilometers away."

"I don't- that means nothing to me!"

"Couple of miles," JC said, rolling his eyes and exhorting Jet to "watch him carefully. Please."

The limo pulled out of the parking lot, albeit not fast enough for his liking, and thankfully the driver rolled up the partition rather than trying to force conversation. His mind incapable of stringing together a coherent thought and the minibar already cleared out, he opened the sunroof and laid back to feel the cool breeze on his face as he looked up at the clear night sky. Stevie loved nights like this, loved searching out the constellations and making up ones of her own with stories to go along with them. He remembers how she hoped to catch a glimpse of the Southern Cross the first time they were in Hawaii. _'Thousands of years ago it was in the northern sky, but over time the earth shifted, so now you can only see it from the southern hemisphere.'_ But it turned out to be the wrong time of year for it to be visible in Hawaii, and thus she would have to wait another five years until they were touring Australia to finally lay eyes on it. At least, he thought so. They were barely speaking to each other by then, let alone stargazing together. Maybe she saw it with Mick. Or maybe they were too _preoccupied_ to look for it on that trip, and she didn't see it until just recently, stumbling out of a car on the arm of whoever she'd fucked that night and spotting it among the last dregs of moonlight before the sunrise. Who the hell even knows.

He saw the reflection of a neon EMERGENCY sign in the window and bolted upright, jumping out of the limo before it even came to a full stop. Jet yelled something at him that he couldn't hear as he jogged toward the hospital entrance, and as he stepped through the doors of the ER, all thoughts of stars were instantly forgotten. It was like the moment when you first surface after diving underwater, how you're wrapped in a watery cocoon where the outside world ceases to exist and then suddenly you're gasping for breath, the sights and sounds around you all amplified after your brief sensory deprivation. Before this he had been so overwhelmed by so much happening all at once that he didn't even know what to think about first, _oh God is she still breathing what the fuck do you mean she's fucking pregnant is it mine please let it be mine oh shit it's mine how the hell could she do this to me and why didn't she tell me God please let her be okay goddamnit I could just kill her no don't take her away..._ It had all been one dreamlike stream of consciousness. Now everything had become real, and uncomfortably so.

He breezed past the desk with the sign warning him to check in before proceeding to the patient area, getting nervous when he didn't immediately see her as he scanned the row of curtained-off beds. What if she wasn't here? What if they took her in for some sort of emergency surgery, or worse yet, what if she stopped breathing on the ride over and-

_Thank God_ , he sighed to himself when he spied a head full of auburn brown hair. She had a hospital blanket draped over her bare legs, still in her silk and chiffon stage clothes, and he didn't expect to be this relieved to see her sitting up halfway and looking more alert than she had been when they carted her off. "Steph. Hey."

"Hello," she said curiously. "I...wasn't expecting you to be here."

"Of course I'd be here, you scared the shit out of me." He rubbed his face, forgetting that he still had that stupid eyeliner on and now it was smeared all over. _Between that and her ballerina getup, we must look to everyone else like Halloween came early this year._

She smiled but her voice betrayed her nervousness. "You didn't have to, I'm sure it's nothing. I'm feeling better already -"

"Stevie, I _know_."

"Know what?" she asked with that same forced smile.

"Robin told me. About the baby."

The corners of her mouth finally dropped. "Goddamnit! She wasn't supposed to do that!"

"Well, when you faint right in front of me, I guess all bets are off. So maybe you should ask yourself why I had to find out from her while you were unconscious instead of hearing it from you," he said, and this was such classic Stephanie. She would've gone right on lying to him all night if he hadn't cut her off at the pass.

"I didn't intend for you to...I was gonna tell you."

"When?!"

"Lindsey, I literally-" She frowned, chewing on her lip and twisting her fingers in the blanket. "It hasn't even been two days yet. I needed time, okay, and we haven't exactly been getting along lately."

"That's another thing! How do you not know that-" He looked her up and down as if hoping to find the clue that he'd been missing for months. If only he had known...he would've taken care of her. He would've dumped Carol on the spot. He never would've hit her or humiliated her in front of an audience or screamed in her face. But it's too late now.

"I thought I was sick, just like I always am! It wasn't this bad in the beginning, but then I kept feeling worse, just not _pregnant_ worse. Because I know what that feels like, and this was different. I thought I was just...never mind," she said, closing her eyes briefly. "Besides, I didn't see you ever being concerned about me for all this time."

"Well, I am now! 'All this time,' you've been out every night getting drunk, getting high, whoring yourself out to I don't even wanna know how many different guys," and it made him want to physically vomit, thinking about her fucking complete strangers like that goddamn bodyguard and his friend while she was pregnant with _his_ baby. "Some mother you are."

She started crying the same way that she did when he caught her trying to steal his pills, face red and chin quivering. "Fuck you, if you think you're going to tell me I need to get rid of her -"

"What? God, no, I'd never," he said, offended that she would even think he'd do something like that. Truthfully, it hadn't even occurred to him in the midst of everything else that had been going through his mind. "So you're keeping it?"

"Yes! And I don't need any- no, I don't _want_ anything from you. I may not be perfect, alright, but I'm going to be a good mother and I'm going to keep her the hell away from you so she'll never know she has an asshole for a father!"

He let out a taunting laugh. "Oh, we'll just see about that. You go ahead and try- hope you've got a good lawyer."

"Yeah, we _will_ see. I'll show them this," she said, pulling off the blanket to reveal deep purple blotches already appearing on her shins from where he had kicked her during the show, "and we can let a judge decide who's a bad parent."

He was taken aback, stunned because he had no idea that he had really kicked her that hard. What the hell kind of guy does that to the girl who's pregnant with his kid? _Some father you are._ "Go for it. I can find a whole shitload of people who'll tell them what you're really like-"

"Jesus Christ, I go to the bathroom for five minutes and- how did you get here?" Robin asked him, hands on her hips in a Stevie-like pose.

"I have a right to be here, more than you do!"

"Do I look like I care about your rights? You didn't need to come here just to cause problems - Stevie, do you want him to leave?"

She nodded tearfully, one arm flung over her face to cover her eyes. "He wants to take her away from m-me..."

"Then get lost before I call security." She turned back to Stevie and sat down on the edge of the bed, speaking to her in a soft reassuring tone. He turned the opposite way to leave and the nurse he didn't know was watching shook her head at him in disapproval.

"I'm not _trying_ to be a dick, okay?" he shouted to her and to anyone in earshot as he made his way to the double doors that led out into the waiting room. "She just makes me so fucking mad!"

\-------------------------

So he went to the waiting room and waited. And waited.

Jet was already sitting out there when he arrived, probably having assumed (correctly) that Lindsey would be banished from the patient area sooner or later. He may not have wanted anyone to accompany him to the hospital, but if he had to have a babysitter, Jet was a good one to have. Never one for small talk, he just gave Lindsey a sympathetic smile and offered him a cigarette. He turned it down at first because he was keyed up enough already, but then changed his mind just so he'd have something else to do with his hands when his frenzied drumming on the arms of his chair started earning him annoyed glares from the woman at the front desk.

His foot took over the percussion duties as he chain smoked, watching as the people around him got summoned to go see their loved ones. Some looked optimistic and some looked like they were prepared for the worst. He wondered if any of them had already gotten kicked out for yelling at a pregnant woman and threatening to take her baby from her. Probably not. That was probably just him.

He wondered what he was even waiting for, if Stevie thought he had left the hospital altogether or if she just plain didn't want to see him again tonight. He hoped she knew he wouldn't leave until he was sure she was going to be okay. Because he really did want her to be okay, even though he does these shitty things like kick her until she's got these big ugly bruises and call her a whore and a bad mother- why? Why can't he stop doing this?

The annoyed woman at the desk picks up the phone, says 'right', and then hangs up, tapping her cigarette on the rim of the ashtray. "Mr. Buckingham?"

"That's me," he said, jumping to his feet and crossing the room to stand by her desk.

She pointed wordlessly to the elevator. "Someone's asking for you. Ninth floor maternity."

_Someone's asking for me!_

The ride up felt like a small eternity, the 'ding' as they passed each floor reminding him that he still hadn't reached his destination. Finally the door opened and he stepped out, the sound of a newborn's wails assaulting his senses as he was met by a woman in a white coat, not much older than him with kind eyes and red hair tied back in a tight ponytail. "Mr. Buckingham? I'm Dr. Jackson."

"It's Lindsey," he said almost automatically. Enough of this 'mister' shit. Mr. Buckingham is his father, the man who he desperately wishes was here right now and who he desperately hopes isn't witnessing this from wherever he might be. "How is she? Is she okay?"

The doctor guided him over to a small waiting area, where a statue of Jesus sat with outstretched arms and a purple flowered lei around his neck. "She's doing fine and so is the baby. She asked to see you, but she fell asleep right after we got her settled in her room, so I figured that we could talk while she rests and her sister is down the hall using the phone."

"Her sis- oh yeah, her sister," he corrected himself, figuring that Robin had lied so that she would be able to stay. "But she- Stevie - she really wants to see me?"

"She does."

He felt a tiny bit of hope for the first time since she collapsed- _she really wants to see him_ \- but there was still so much he didn't understand. "So...if she's fine, why did she pass out? And the baby. It's...okay?"

"As far as we can tell, yes. We've got a device that lets us hear the fetal heartbeat, and it was nice and strong." His head suddenly feels heavier as it starts to sink in that there is a real person in the midst of this, not just a theoretical concept or an extension of Stevie herself, but an actual tiny human with a beating heart that they created. "Tomorrow once the technician's here, we can do a procedure called an ultrasound to take a peek inside the womb. We won't be able to see much right now while baby's so small, but we can take measurements to confirm how far along the pregnancy is."

"You mean, you can find out when, uh..." He scratched the side of his neck in discomfort, knowing that would probably be his best chance at confirming that this kid really is his. For now, at least, but he can't envision himself demanding a blood sample from a tiny baby. He'll know when he sees it ( _know what he's already accepted as the truth, that he's going to be someone's father_ ).

"When the baby was conceived? We'll certainly get a good estimate, and we'll be able to approximate the due date too," and _woah_ , he's not ready to think that far ahead yet, "but her guess was the last week of January, and I don't see anything to suggest she's wrong. That means she'll be out of the first trimester in a few weeks - most women notice that they start feeling better when they get to that point."

"So that's why she's been sick. I mean, it's because of the baby," he said, almost thinking aloud to himself. _Again, you knew something was wrong and you didn't do anything to help- no! It's not your fault. It's all hers. If she couldn't figure it out, how the hell were you supposed to?_

"Well. Yes." The doctor pressed her lips together, hesitating, but her voice was still kind. "She was honest with me about the drugs she's been using. I only mention this because you're this baby's father," and something inside him felt unexpectedly warm thinking that Stevie had told her that - unless she just happened to catch their earlier showdown in the ER, "but I suspect I'm not telling you anything you don't already know."

"Erm. Yeah."

"I'm not here to judge anybody," and that makes one of them. "She obviously wants to do the right thing and I'm glad for that. But I _am_ concerned about the future."

"You mean, if the baby has...problems." He suddenly remembers being about eight or nine years old, awaiting the birth of a new cousin that he never got to meet. The baby was born sleeping, his mother said, because of a medicine she took while she was pregnant that made his heart not grow. At the time he didn't understand; was almost angry. Aren't adults supposed to know when things are bad for them?

"There is that possibility, yes. And right now, there's really no way to tell. In a couple of months, there's more testing that can be done. But the heartbeat is normal, which is a positive sign, so I'm optimistic that the baby can keep developing the way it should- as long as she can stay clean for the rest of her pregnancy. And that's the part that worries me."

What was this lady insinuating? "Of course she can. She can quit, she'll be fine."

"She told me that you're scheduled in Hawaii in five days, right?" she asked, and he nodded. "I talked it over with her, and she agreed to stay here for the next three days-"

"I thought you said there wasn't anything wrong with her."

"There's nothing _wrong_ , per se, no. Part of what she's been going through, those are just the unfortunate symptoms of pregnancy. But she hasn't been eating well, staying hydrated, getting enough rest, and that's not helping. It's obvious she's been under a lot of stress for some time now and then trying to counteract that with more drugs and more drinking," and he must have had a strange expression on his face, because she paused briefly and looked at him like she was expecting him to say something.

"What do you...I mean, she overdoes it a little sometimes, yeah." How much was she telling this doctor, this _stranger_ , about whatever 'stress' she'd been under? He knew it, she'd spin this to make it all his fault. And it wasn't! With a dismissive shrug, he continued. "But she'll be fine, she already quit everything. Didn't she?"

"She says she hasn't taken anything in almost 48 hours and I don't have her lab work back yet, but I believe her. Which is-"

"Two nights ago," he interrupted. "She wanted some of my seizure meds because she said she couldn't sleep. But I told her no."

She nodded and he felt vindicated, like he did at least one thing right, even though he left at least two dozen of the most pertinent details out of the story. "I'm glad you did. We know those medications can cause birth defects, so that's definitely -"

"But the baby's gonna be alright now, because she stopped taking them."

"Well. We can't undo the damage that might have already been done - because of that, or anything else - but we can make sure both mother and baby are as healthy as possible from now on. Which is part of the reason I want her to stay for a little while longer, because stopping everything so abruptly is like speeding down a motorway and then colliding with a brick wall. I don't expect any serious complications, but I want to keep an eye on her while everything works its way out of her system," and he knew this was doctor code for 'make sure she can't get her hands on more'. "Here we can do our best to keep her comfortable while she's detoxing, which is important because if mom's sick or stressed or agitated, baby's going to feel it. If we need to, we can even give her small doses of a sedative - one that doesn't harm the fetus."

_If mom's sick or stressed or agitated, baby's going to feel it._ He thinks about the bruises on her legs, about the way she cried after they fought on the last night in Japan and about _so what, you're afraid of me now_ and how her whole body trembled as he shook her. "And then in three days she'll be fine and finish out the tour with us."

"That's certainly what she _wants_ to do."

No shit it is. He was still surprised that she hadn't already gotten up and ran out of there (and who knows, maybe she had). "It's not gonna hurt the baby, is it? I mean, as long as she feels better? Cause it's only three nights and then we're off for a month. But I don't want either of them sick again..."

"It's not dangerous as long as she's up to it physically. But again, that's not what I'm most concerned about. You said you're off for a month - do you know what her plans were for that break?"

"I really have no idea, no." He wasn't even sure what his own plans were, other than staying the hell away from her and trying to work things out with Carol. But the doctor frowned and he felt like he needed to explain. "Uh. Look. I don't know how much she's told you, but we're not together. I have a girlfriend at home," he held back on adding 'maybe', "and Stevie and I, we're not even really _friends_. So she doesn't exactly tell me her plans." Realizing that made him sound like an absolute jerk, he clarified. "Like, when this all happened, I thought we were getting back together. I _wanted_ us to get back together. But she changed her mind. That wasn't my decision, it was hers."

"Right, okay. So obviously there's a lot going on, and I'm not going to interfere with that," she said quickly. "But I'll tell you the same thing I'm going to tell her and her sister - and that's that I _strongly_ suggest she get into some sort of longer treatment program. If it was up to me, I'd have her bypass Hawaii and go straight there. Now-"

"You mean, like rehab?"

"Exactly, yes."

Lindsey didn't know whether to be offended at the suggestion or amused at the idea of Stevie actually checking herself in. "Ha! She won't go, I'll tell you that much right now."

"Truthfully, there may not even be a place for her. We don't have any facilities in our country that would take a pregnant woman, I know that, but you might have options in America. Even just admitting her to this ward while she detoxes, I had to convince the head of maternity that I would take responsibility for her because none of the other docs want that kind of 'trouble'. And I will. I'll be here all weekend to check up on her and the baby."

"I...thanks. I appreciate that," he said, and he's still not entirely sure how he feels about this lady, but she seems competent in what she does and he trusts that Stevie's in good hands with her. What other choice does he have? He felt the distance from home more acutely then than he had since he was back in Japan, pointing mutely at plastic food in a restaurant and trying to remember how to say 'please no octopus', and he wished that they were back in LA so he could call their parents to come out and handle this the way that they did when they were 22. He might be eight years older and several million dollars richer now, but he feels even more like a lost little kid than he did then. How is he supposed to be someone's parent in a few months?

"Of course. This older generation of doctors, they just don't even want to touch the subject of addiction -"

"She's not an addict," he replied in a sharp tone. "She can quit any time she wants to. She already did."

She gave him a small, tight nod. "I'm not going to try diagnosing her when we've only just met. But I want you to know that this will be hard for her, physically and emotionally, there's a lot of changes she's going to have to make. Not just now, but once the baby's born as well. Ideally, even if she's at home and not in treatment, she can get some kind of therapy. Most importantly of all, she's going to need people around her who can give her a lot of love and support."

"Listen, there's a lot you don't know about her, or us. I'm not the bad guy here. Maybe I'm not perfect, but neither is she, and you have no idea about what we, what I've, been through. I didn't intend for this to happen, okay?" He tugged on the curls at the crown of his head in frustration. "If I had known that she was...I would never have...she doesn't want me around. She wants nothing to do with me."

"She _did_ ask to see you just now..."

"Probably to tell me to fuck off," he says, shaking his head.

"Like you said, I don't know what's gone on between you. But I don't think she wants to fight." She leans toward him slightly, palms flat on her knees. "I know this is a lot to take in all at once and it wasn't the ideal way to find out that she's expecting -"

"No shit." Before she hit the floor, he was pretty sure that she was going to hit _him_. But he wouldn't have hit her back. _Would he?_

"But I can tell that you want to do the right thing. You want to do what's best for this baby," and he says _yes, yes_ because he really does. It's what his own father would've expected of him, to be a man and take responsibility, and that's what he intends to do. He wants this kid to know, regardless of what Stevie thinks, that their old man isn't really an asshole. "And for now, the most important thing you can do for him or her is to do what's best for Mom. However you can support her, whatever that looks like, that's what you need to be doing. It-"

The intercom speaker on the wall crackles to life, announcing something that Lindsey can't understand through the static. The doctor stands up and gives him an apologetic smile. "That was for me- we've got a little one ready to make their entrance. I'm sorry I can't stay, but hopefully we'll get a chance to speak tomorrow. You can go see her now if you'd like. "

"Yeah, thanks," he says as she hurries off, rubbing his chin in thought.

\-------------------------

He makes his way down the hall as quietly as possible, even though he doubts she'd be able to hear him approaching over the sounds of yet another crying baby. Holding his breath, he takes one more cautious step and then he's standing in the doorway of her room, her face illuminated by the fluorescent light on the wall above the bed.

She's still asleep, wearing a blue hospital gown that matches the blanket covering her. Her left arm lies at her side, attached to an IV, and her free hand rests on her stomach. She seems so peaceful despite her mildly bleak surroundings, which makes him realize that he hasn't seen her that relaxed since they were cuddled up together on the floor of a little Japanese cottage while the snow fell outside their window.

He thinks about the Polaroid he took of her that afternoon standing in the snow, looking up toward the sky with an awestruck smile on her face. At first he had taped it to the inside of his favorite guitar case, but then he had taken to propping it up on the bedside table in his hotel rooms once Carol was gone and there was no longer a need to be discreet. That was the first weekend in February, so if everyone's estimations were correct, she might have already been pregnant beneath that giant fur coat. If not...well, then she probably was by the weekend's end.

She had been so happy that day. They both were.

"Is she sleeping?" he hears a soft voice ask, and he turns around to see Robin a few feet away from him. He nods. "Good. Don't bother her."

"But the doctor told me she-"

"I _said_ , let her sleep. I want to talk to you."

He looks into the room one more time to make sure that she hasn't moved before reluctantly walking away. Robin is leaning against the wall in the lobby and puffing on a cigarette, a vice he knows she only indulges in when she's mad. "Can I bum one of those?"

" _No_."

He doesn't think she'll change her mind if he adds a 'please'. "So the doctor said that they're both okay. Her and the baby. She said she got to hear its heartbeat."

"She did. So did I," she adds, the memory temporarily erasing the frown on her face. "It was pretty amazing. She was...emotional." He snarls and starts to say that it should've been _him_ , that she had no business taking his place no matter how much Stevie might despise him, when she added, "She wants you there tomorrow for the ultrasound so you can see the baby with her."

He hadn't even thought of that as a possibility, just figured it was something like an x-ray where the patient was all alone, but- "Really? She does? I can?"

"Against my better judgment, but yeah." She takes another puff on her cigarette and purposely blows the smoke in his face. "You know, I don't hate you or anything."

"Uh, okay. But?" He's pretty sure that's not what she wanted to talk to him about so badly.

"I'd even consider you a friend. We're friends, right?" He agrees, even if her current demeanor is decidedly less than friendly. "So as a friend, and as Stevie's friend, I am telling you to _get your shit together,_ " she hisses. "I have been holding my tongue this entire month - well, longer than that, but _especially_ this month- hoping that you would come to your senses. And now I'm done."

"But Stevie -"

"No, no. We're not doing this 'but Stevie', not this time. Because usually you both are idiots when it comes to each other, I will give you that, which is why I try to stay out of it. But she took a huge step in Japan, telling you how she really felt. Do you know how long I have been after her to do that? So she finally did, knowing she might get rejected, but she takes a chance, and meanwhile _you_ don't even have the balls to tell her that you had asked Carol Ann to marry you!"

"I was never really gonna -"

"Oh my God, shut _up_ ," she groans, her mannerisms so identical to Stevie's that it's like being lectured by Stevie herself. Maybe they really are sisters. "Listen. We both know that you don't love Carol. Hell, I'm not sure you even _like_ her all that much. But Stevie has it in her head that you do. And honestly, you're kinda making her case for her when you drag Carol across the planet so that you can shove her in Stevie's face again. But even then, you can't just leave her be!" She rolls her eyes as she stubs out her cigarette. "I knew Stevie was going to end up having sex with you that day in Brisbane. The entire flight there I was begging her not to, that it wasn't gonna help anything and that she shouldn't go running when you call just because you wanted to get off, not without you apologizing to her first."

"Okay, that's not fair," he complains. "If you knew all the times _she_ expected _me_ to come running when _she_ wanted-"

"Oh, I know! Believe me, I know and I've told her to knock it off before too. But this one is all on you. And then what happens when you get caught? You blame her. She had to listen to you begging Carol to forgive you when...I know why you did it, it's because you're shit-scared of being alone. But to Stevie? All she sees is you choosing Carol over her. Do you have any idea how that made her feel?"

How the hell would she ever think he would choose Carol when he told her so many times that _she_ was the one he wanted, the only one he loved? Just because he apologized to his girlfriend when she walked in on him with another woman? What else was he supposed to do? It didn't make sense. "Yeah, well, seems like she got over it fast. Just like always."

"And that's another thing, she has to listen to you calling her a druggie and a slut when...maybe if it wasn't for you, she wouldn't be doing half of the things she does."

"Now that's just bullshit."

"Is it? Look, we both know she likes to have a good time and it can get out of hand but- there's a point where it's not a party anymore, she's just lonely and self-medicating. She'd never admit it, but she's as bad as you are when it comes to not being able to stand being alone." She groans again, rubbing her temples. "I've spent this whole month trying to keep things from getting too out of control and now...all this time I knew something was wrong, but honestly, I just thought she was seriously depressed. Kim was the one who said it sounded like she was pregnant."

"She should've told me," he grumbles. It could've been different, had he known. "I shouldn't have had to find out that way."

"She was going to tell you! Lindsey, she didn't know what to do, she was scared. She thought you were going to tell her she should get rid of it -"

_So what, you're afraid of me now?_ "Again, that's bullshit! Why would she think I'd -"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because last year you told her she was the last person on earth you'd want a kid with cause there's no way a junkie could handle a baby. Does that ring any bells?"

"That was just a stupid argument, it wasn't - and hey, she already sobered up. So I guess I was wrong!" _Stevie doesn't trust me, I know that, but she doesn't think I'd hurt the baby. Does she?_

"Fine. I'm sick of arguing with you. But you need to grow the hell up, fast. I've been hoping that somehow you guys would sort everything out like you always do, but this is different. You've been hurting her more and more the entire time she's been pregnant," and she hasn't even brought up him slapping her, or anything that happened when she came to his room two nights ago, so he's certain that Stevie didn't tell her- but why? "Before tonight you could use the excuse that you didn't know, but now you do, and you come all the way out here just to call her a terrible mother and then threaten to take her kid away?"

"That's not why I came! She- I didn't mean to, I just wanted to know that she was alright," he says, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the linoleum floor.

"Well, she's not. She's sick and exhausted and worried about the baby and the last goddamned thing she needs is you treating her like shit. She needs to rest and get better so she can figure out what to do next, but for reasons I don't understand, she still wants you around. You're someone's father now, Lindsey. You can't keep fucking up."

He's heard enough. "Okay. Thanks for the lecture."

"Wait...where are you going?" she asks as he jabs repeatedly at the elevator button.

"Need to get some air. Tell her I'll be back soon."

As soon as the elevator door closes he's thumping his forehead against the wall, trying to purge all the disparate voices speaking at once inside his head.

_You've been hurting her more and more the entire time._

_The most important thing you can do is what's best for Mom._

_She asked to see you._

_I'm going to be a good mother and I'm going to keep her the hell away from you._

_We know those medications can cause birth defects._

_You can't keep fucking up._

_We can't undo the damage that might have already been done._

In his mind he sees her sleeping in that hospital bed, but he hears her words from five weeks and a world away. _I wish I could just freeze this moment...but I know life doesn't work that way. It can't last._

She doesn't trust him. She doesn't want him around her, or the baby, hurting them more.

Not a minute goes by between when he steps outside onto the sidewalk in front of the hospital and when something shimmers in his peripheral vision and he turns his face upward. He recognizes it immediately, the four brightest stars in the sky arranged in a cross formation, and if that isn't the most goddamn poetically ironic thing...

Jet comes up behind him, having been waiting in the lobby for his charge all this time, and cautiously puts a hand on his shoulder. "What's up, buddy?"

"Go get the car. I'm ready to leave."


	30. show a little faith, there's magic in the night (1997)

**_August 1997_ **

"I said, no! Not until you go brush your teeth!"

"You're becoming a lightweight, Nicks," Lindsey teased as she prodded him toward the bathroom. "Don't smoke, don't drink, and now you can't even handle the smell of it."

"Yeah, yeah. You already got me to eat that cheesecake, so that's enough of my vices for one night."

With two and a half weeks to go before opening night of the tour, rehearsals were in full swing. The band had flown out to Hartford several days prior to start rehearsing on-site, and they had just capped off a busy week with a Saturday night group dinner. Everyone was in high spirits, especially the British faction, who had started drinking before their American counterparts even arrived.

"Sorry we're late," Stevie said as they sat down, hoping no one would comment on how flustered, yet strangely refreshed, they both looked.

Lindsey shook his head. "Nah, we're not."

"Wouldn't have expected you to be on time anyway," Mick remarked.

While both McVies were getting sloshed, Lindsey stopped after two drinks in semi-solidarity with Stevie, whose diet didn't allow for alcohol. It didn't allow for cheesecake either, but he still ordered some for himself to see if he could lure her into having a bite.

She had a very small one, then another that wasn't so small, and then a third that was larger still. "That's it, no more." She leaned over to whisper into Lindsey's ear. "And you are definitely helping me burn it off later."

"Was already counting on it." She wrinkled up her nose when she caught a whiff of the alcohol on his breath, but didn't think anything of it until he tried to kiss her in the car and the smell gave her a brief queasy feeling. She chalked it up to not having had a drink in months and ordered him to go brush his teeth as soon as they got back to their hotel room.

"Hurry up, I can feel the carbs settling in," she joked, turning toward the TV that they had left on in their haste to leave for dinner. "Huh, that's too bad."

"What is?"

"Princess Diana was in a car wreck. They say she might have some broken bones." She picked up the remote and switched the TV off, dropping it back onto the couch before sauntering over to Lindsey and giving him a peck on the corner of the mouth. "Mmm. Much better."

She grinned when he eagerly pushed her up against the wall, the tip of his tongue nudging at the seam of her lips until she parted them for him. Sometimes it still seemed surreal that this was really happening, that she was kissing the same boy that she used to make out with in his parents' garage when she was 20 years old, and that they were finally getting it right after three decades of trial and error. (The relationship part, that is. They were always good at the kissing part).

"That's enough of a warmup," he announced, licking at the spot just below her ear that never failed to make her shiver. "Now strip."

"Excuse me?"

"Hey, if I'm going to be your personal trainer, I need to see what I'm working with." She shook her head at him as she turned around and lifted up her hair, letting him slowly unzip her dress before she stepped out of it and turned to face him again. He looked at her with a slightly awed smile, like he didn't just watch her getting dressed a few hours ago, like this is brand new to him and he can't quite believe his good fortune. "How is it that you keep getting sexier by the day?"

She laughed, but she was still flushed with pride as he kissed her fiercely, all heat and desire, thumbing at her hardened nipple once he unhooked her bra. He grunted when she popped open the button on his jeans and pinned her wrists over her head to stop her. "Hey! Don't I get to check your qualifications, Mr. Trainer?"

"Oh, is that what you're doing?" He stepped closer so that she was sandwiched between him and the wall, his erection pressed against her. "Feel that? That's what you do to me."

He let go of her arms and knelt in front of her, hands cupping her ass as he started placing little kisses on her stomach and down to her inner thighs. Her legs automatically parted and she moaned in approval when his lips brushed her clit. "Baby. Please."

"Fuck, I can already taste you," he said with a low growl, teasing her slit with his tongue through the sheer fabric of her underwear. Her hips bucked forward to get closer to his mouth, and she lifted one leg to rest on his shoulder, opening herself up further to him. He pulled her panties to the side and slid one long finger inside her. "Touch yourself for me."

She obeyed, eyes closed and head against the wall as she squeezed one of her breasts in her palm and let out a long groan. He added another finger, sucking lightly on her clit as he fucked her, and her reaction almost sent them both toppling to the ground. "Shit! I guess my balance isn't what it used to be."

"Can't have you cracking your head open on my account, can we?" He rose to his feet and before she could object, he picked her up bridal-style and carried her toward the bedroom as she shrieked.

"Lindsey Buckingham, you put me down right now!" It was enough of a commotion that the dogs looked up from the toys they'd been occupied with and chased after them, barking at Lindsey's heels. "You tell him, girls!"

"Quiet, mutts." He shut the bedroom door behind them and carefully laid her down on the bed, looking pleased with himself.

"What, did you think it was going to be a turn on for me to see that you can still lift my giant ass?"

He shrugged. "Well, I mean..."

"Because honestly? It's working." She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down for another kiss, ignoring the still-barking dogs out in the hall.

\-------------------------

_Owwwww._

Stevie exhaled sharply, having rolled onto her stomach in her sleep and then been awoken by a sharp pain. What the hell? It felt like someone had punched her twice in the chest, hitting her squarely in the boob each time, and her tits hadn't been this sore since...no.

It can't be.

Can it?

"What happened?" Karen demands to know when she picks up the phone. Stevie feels a tiny bit guilty, waking her up several hours before sunrise for something that's not technically an emergency, but there's no way she's going back to sleep now. She needs to just get it done and if it turns out to be nothing, she can be back in bed before Lindsey wakes up and realizes she was ever gone.

"Uh, I'm not sure yet. But I need you to do me a big favor and go run an errand for me."

"Right now," Karen says with a weary sigh. "Can't Buckingham do it?"

"Yeah, right now, and no he can't. But before I tell you what I need...I want you to promise me something. When I tell you, I don't want any questions or comments, I want you to just say 'yes, Stevie,' and then we'll talk when you get back."

A pause. "Stevie, I'm getting kinda nervous here."

"Good. Then that makes two of us."

\-------------------------

"So you really think you're..." Karen says when she returns to her room, dropping the bag with the requested items on the table. Stevie had gone downstairs to wait for her there, afraid that Lindsey would hear her anxiously pacing back and forth if she stayed in their suite. She knows this is probably one of those things she's supposed to talk to him about before she does it, and she worries that he'll be upset that she didn't tell him sooner if there is actually something to tell, but she can't risk disappointing him after getting his hopes up over a very long shot possibility.

"I don't know, that's why I needed you to go get the test."

Karen ignores the terseness in her boss' voice. "Well, I got two just in case you don't trust the first one."

"But it doesn't make sense, because I only got my period...two and a half weeks ago, maybe? The night of the release party. If I really was- I don't think I'd be having any symptoms yet. Ugh...I'm probably freaking out over nothing. Maybe it's menopause? It probably is."

"Go find out." Karen points toward the bathroom, knowing that Stevie could easily deliberate with herself for hours. She'd never tell her this, but she's 99 percent sure this is a false alarm, and she'd like to get this over with so she can go back to bed.

"This is ridiculous. It's too soon, even if I was - fine, fine," she says when Karen just keeps pointing. "But so you know, I'm blaming this stupid idea on you."

"You always do," Karen replies cheerfully.

She emerges shortly after, relieved by how simple these tests have become over time. "Five minutes. Well, less than that now."

"Were you, uh, trying for this?" Karen asks, no longer able to keep her questions to herself.

"Karen, I'm 49 years old, I didn't think...I mean. We weren't trying _not_ to." She wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even to Lindsey and _certainly_ not to Karen, but ever since she got her period she's been thinking 'what if this is it?' every time they've had sex. It was a harmless fantasy, nothing that she was actually expecting to happen...but what if? "We talked about it a while ago and decided not to bother with birth control. I've never really gotten the hang of it in the first place, y'know, " she adds wryly. She hadn't told Karen that they had been considering adoption or surrogacy in the near future, worried she'd quit on the spot at the idea of one more being to look after. "Ugh. I can't believe I'm even doing this. Why would I think I'm fucking _pregnant_ at this age? I can't look, Kare, you're going to have to do it for me."

Karen nods like she's been anticipating this, and Stevie lets herself fall back onto the unmade bed with a groan. When she doesn't hear anything, she calls out for her trusty assistant. "What's taking so long?"

"Well, I'll be goddamned," Karen says, appearing in the doorway and holding up the stick in question.

\-------------------------

Karen frowns as Stevie tosses aside the empty water bottle. "I don't think you're supposed to do that. It'll mess up the test results if you drink too much."

"I'm not gonna sit here for hours waiting until I have to pee again," Stevie snaps. "If this next one's negative, then we'll do it your way."

"Right-o," Karen says, wondering if this is hormones or just general bitchiness. She hadn't noticed Stevie being any moodier than usual lately, which was one of the reasons she was skeptical about this alleged pregnancy, but now she's just thinking that the worst has yet to come.

"But this is crazy, right?" Stevie had been so certain when she was still mostly asleep, but then the doubts started to pile on even as she was staring at a big pink + sign. "I don't have a period in almost a year, and then three weeks later I'm pregnant? That doesn't add up."

"Well. Are you _sure_ you had your period?"

"What else would it be? I'm pretty sure I didn't stab myself in the -"

"That's not what I meant! What I'm saying is, when my sister did IVF, she started bleeding a week or two after she had it done and she panicked," Karen explains. "But the doctor said it's not uncommon, and a lot of women don't even realize they're pregnant because they think they just had a light period."

"Huh." That would make sense, because it only lasted about two days...and she _had_ been tired lately, although that could just be due to her rehearsal schedule. Hell, Lindsey had been sleeping more than she had, what with the heartburn and having to get up to pee multiple times a night- oh. _Hmm_. And of course there were the sore boobs, and how she got nauseous yesterday when she smelled alcohol...

Oh God. She's definitely pregnant.

\-------------------------

Lindsey was surprised when he woke up and Stevie wasn't snoring away next to him. She had been so happy at the prospect of having a chance to sleep in, and a check of the clock confirmed that it was only 9 AM, which to her was an obscenely early wakeup time even on a normal day.

He threw on boxers and a t-shirt before he left the bedroom, always wary of Karen popping up unexpectedly. But he didn't see Karen, just Stevie sitting in front of the TV with tears streaming down her face.

"Hey. What's wrong, angel?" he asks, hurrying over to sit down beside her.

She gestures to the screen while she tries to compose herself enough to be able to speak. "Princess Diana died. And I'm pregnant."

\-------------------------

"She...you..." Lindsey stutters, his brain being simultaneously pulled in two opposite directions. "How?"

"The car crash, I guess it was worse than they thought." She went back to her room after the second test, telling Karen she needed some time alone to think, and then turned on the TV in search of a pleasant distraction. It was a distraction, alright, but one that just made her cry harder, imagining those poor boys waking up to the news that their mother was gone.

Lindsey is even more confused, trying to remember when he was in a wreck and how he would've managed to impregnate her during said wreck, until he realizes what she's referring to. "No! I meant, how are you..."

"Well, I thought you _knew_ how that one happened! Do I really need to explain?" She laughs softly, taking his hands in hers and watching his face to gauge his reaction. Even after all their talks about wanting children, the part of her that's been hurt before still fears he'll change his mind. "But I'm serious. I took two tests this morning and they were both positive."

"You're. We're."

"Can you finish a sentence?" she jokes, relieved that he was smiling even though he can't string two words together.

"Holy fuck." He lets out something resembling a whoop, giving up on any more sentences and pulling her into a tight hug as he presses his lips against the top of her head. _Pregnant. She's pregnant. I'm going to be a father again._ "Remember what I told you? You're magic."

"I dunno, you probably did most of the work while I laid there," she says with her face tucked into the crook of his neck, feeling his excited heartbeat against her cheek.

"Yeah, but you're the one who's-" He suddenly lets go of her, putting his hands on her shoulders instead. "Shit. Are you alright? I mean, do you feel okay? Do you need anything?"

"I feel fine, honey. Other than, y'know, kinda crazy emotional," she says, amused by his concern and the way he's touching her so cautiously.

"But what made you think that..."

"Honestly? I rolled over in my sleep and my tits felt like rocks. I recognized that feeling and...don't you dare," she warns when she sees how he's eyeing her chest. It had already hurt enough, the way he had been squeezing her so tightly, but she couldn't bear to interrupt his moment of pure joy. "You put a hand on them right now and you're gonna have one less hand, I swear to God."

"Don't worry, I won't- but those are going to be amazing, goddamn," he admits sheepishly, ignoring her eyeroll. It was relatively unimportant in the grand scheme of things, obviously. But he remembers what they looked like the last time, when she was smaller to begin with, and how she'd been like a lioness in heat once they'd stopped the constant fighting... _goddamn_.

"So anyway, I called Karen and made her go to CVS for me."

"How'd she take that? Did you tell her that now she's off the hook for being our surrogate?" At one point he had made the half-joking, but very practical suggestion that Karen should be the one to carry their baby for them because she was always around anyway. Stevie had been aghast, insisting that she 'couldn't ask her something like that' as if she hasn't made Karen do worse for her in the past (which he's sure she has).

"She's still in shock, I think. I gave her the rest of the day off to recover." It was partially true- but first she needed to finish the task of tracking down Stevie's doctor in the middle of a holiday weekend, because there was no way she could wait two more days to find out what she was supposed to be doing next. "I'm...I'm sorry you weren't there when I took the test. I just thought there was no way and I...I didn't want to let you down."

"Steph. You wouldn't be letting me down. And you won't be, no matter what happens. Understand?" He wraps his arms around her, gentler this time, and her head finds the same spot on his shoulder to rest on.

"I'm scared," she admits, the tears wetting his neck triggering some of his own, and this is the part that he hates. He wants to be the protector and keep her and this baby safe, the way he couldn't before, but this time he's fully aware of just how much is truly out of his hands. "There's so many things that can go wrong, and I'm not exactly young, and God knows I did so much shit for so long..."

He rubs her back in a wordless reassurance, trying to hide his anger at the unfairness of it all. They should have a teenage daughter right now and be thinking about how to tell her that she's going to become a big sister right before she heads off to college. (He imagines she would be happy to have a sibling, but grossed out at the idea of her parents still having sex at their advanced age). They should be able to celebrate something this miraculous happening without being reminded of the pain of the past. "Hey. We can't think about...before, okay? Remember what your doctor said - you're healthy, you're taking good care of yourself. Right?"

"Yeah, but I could still-"

He cups one of her cheeks in his palm, wiping away tears, and she places her hand on top of his. "You know that no matter what, even if something _does_ happen, it won't be your fault."

She can't help but hear an implied 'this time' at the end of his sentence and as much as she tries to brush it aside, it still gets tucked away in a dark corner of her mind. But she ignores it for now, focusing on the way he's beaming at her with pride as he kisses the back of both of her hands.

"So you're really happy," she says, just to be sure. Finding out she's pregnant isn't a novel experience for her, but she's never had the chance to tell someone and have it be genuinely good news to them. This was usually about the time when she was agonizing over what to say or trying to figure out how quickly she could get it taken care of.

"God, yes. I'm...I just can't believe it. I didn't think it would happen like this, so quickly. Not after how long we've been waiting."

She swallows hard because she doesn't want to worry him by starting to cry again, nodding her head instead to show that she understands. It _has_ been a long wait, and a lonely one, but to know that it might not have been all in vain makes her feel hopeful in a way that she hasn't felt for 17 years. "I'm. I'm sorry it took so long."

"Sssh. Don't say that. It happened when it was supposed to," he says as he kisses her forehead. And he really believes that, even if part of him also believes they wouldn't have had to wait until now if he had been a better man back then.

"Shit. The others are going to kill me, aren't they?" She hadn't even thought of that part yet, the part where she's supposed to start a ten week cross country tour 18 days from now. The timing couldn't have been worse, and even though she's beyond excited for the shows to begin, she's not going to take any risks with this baby. "I mean, obviously I'm gonna keep going for as long as I can, but -"

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Linds, if my doctor says I have to lie flat on my back in bed for nine months to keep this kid safe, then that's where I'll be, but otherwise...if I could do it last time, I can certainly do it now." She made a lot of mistakes with that pregnancy, but she's still proud that she was able to keep performing into her second trimester without missing a single show.

"You're not 30 anymore, though."

She gives him a warning frown. "And I'm also not a crackhead anymore."

"That's not what...I just don't want you to have to struggle as much this time around, that's all," he says, and her expression softens. "I want it to be as easy on you as possible."

It's useless to keep trying not to cry at this point, so she gives in. "Th- thank you, baby."

"Of course. We're in this together, you and me, remember? And now we're gonna be parents again." To anyone who asks, he's always said he doesn't have any kids. It's just easier than trying to explain, and most people who ask wouldn't really want to hear the true story anyway. But inside he's always held onto what the kindly older doctor at the hospital had told them that day- that after what they had been through and the choice they had to make, they had more than earned the right to consider themselves parents. Only now he's finally going to have a living child, one he can see and hold and watch grow. "I love you. God, I love you. I'd say you have no idea how happy this makes me, but...I think you do."

She does. And the only thing that makes her happier than the idea of motherhood is seeing how overjoyed he is and finally being able to give him what she knows he's wanted for such a long time, probably even more than he ever let on to her.

"Steph? Can I...?" His hand hovers over her stomach, waiting for her answer.

"You want to?" He nods enthusiastically and she lies back on the couch as he sits down on the floor so that he's looking right at her belly. "God, I'm gonna be huge. I doubt I'll be able to hide it as well as I did before."

"You're gonna be beautiful. Like always." He rests his palm low across her abdomen, trying to imagine the tiny little bean tucked away in there, trying to telepathically send it all the love and strength that he can. He's never really believed in a higher power and he's not the praying type, but he's never seen the harm in throwing out a request just in case, and so right now he's begging to any god who might be listening to please, please, let Stevie have this one thing that she deserves so much.

Please, please don't make her have to say goodbye again.


	31. left a clouded mind and a heavy heart (1980)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{just to get this out of the way for this chapter and the ones to come- I have done far too much research about medicine and technology 40 years ago, to the point where I can confidently conclude that I know very little. So if you find any glaring errors...first of all, no you did not, and second of all, thank you for bearing with me.}}

**_March 1980_ **

"Mnnn...Lin'sey?"

Stevie tried to open her eyes when she sensed someone in the hospital room with her, but they weren't cooperating. She felt a small hand touch hers. "No, honey, it's me."

"Where Lin'sey?"

"He's coming," Robin lied. She hadn't seen him since he left to 'get some air', and that was over an hour ago. "Go back to sleep for now."

"Mmm, oka-" and she was asleep again before she could get the entire word out.

The next time she woke up, she didn't immediately notice that he wasn't there. She was too busy throwing up, _again_ , and how did she even have anything left in her stomach to begin with when she'd barely eaten in two days?

After that, she had to pee (again), shuffling to the bathroom on unsteady legs and dragging the IV pole along beside her. The nurse was annoyed to see her getting up (again), but what did she expect to happen when you pumped a pregnant woman full of fluids?

Robin helped her back into bed and she pulled the horrible scratchy hospital blankets up to her chin. "So cold."

"I can get you another blanket if you want?" Robin suggested.

"No." She didn't want another stupid blanket. Her whole body ached down to the bone and it felt like someone was sitting on her chest, so what good was a blanket going to do? "Lin'sey here yet?"

"Ah, no. Not yet."

"Did he know I wan' see him?" she asked, trying to gauge how much time had passed since the doctor said she'd go get him, but unable to come up with a decent estimate. He wouldn't just leave, though, she's certain of that. Despite telling him back in the ER that she wanted him gone, she knew he'd stick around until he was sure she was okay.

"He does, but...they won't allow visitors until morning, so I sent him back to the hotel to get some stuff for you." Robin held her breath, hoping Stevie wouldn't question why her story kept changing. In reality, she had no idea where Lindsey was, and she was waiting on Stevie to fall asleep again so that she could sneak away and call the others one last time before they left for the airport. She couldn't imagine that he would actually get on the plane with them- her best guess was that he was either locked in his room or slumped over the counter at some bar- but she figured she'd better find out before Stevie started to suspect something was up. "You just get some more sleep and I'll wake you when he gets here."

"Kay," she murmured, no reason to believe he wasn't coming. She closed her eyes again and hoped she could go back to the dream she was having before she woke up, where she was sitting on the beach in Hawaii when Lindsey came to her. He told her how sorry he was for everything that he had done, that he had dumped Carol for good and that he was ready to take care of her and their baby. She told him yes, of course I forgive you, and then he brought her inside this house with floor to ceiling windows on all sides and made love to her right there while a giant storm raged outside. She felt protected, sure that he wouldn't hurt her again. It was a good dream.

She fell back asleep, but she didn't dream this time.

\-------------------------

A new nurse comes in at an ungodly hour - 7 AM! - to check on her before breakfast. "How are you feeling this morning, Ms. Nicks?"

"Not well. I hurt all over," she manages to croak out. The nurse is a young woman, probably no more than a year or two out of college, and Stevie can instantly tell that she recognizes who her patient is. It's a vibe she's learned how to pick up on over the years. The doctor from last night, on the other hand, either didn't know who she was or didn't care. But this girl has got her instantly suspicious. The last thing she needs right now is to think that she's disappointing someone because they've found out that _the_ Stevie Nicks isn't so glamorous after all- she's just a puking, DT'ing mess who's gotten knocked up by some absentee man. Speaking of which, where is he? "Hey...has anyone been here to see me? And where'd the woman I was with go?"

"After breakfast you can have a Panadol for the pain if the doctor okays it," and Stevie has no clue what that is, but she hopes it's like morphine. "Your sister said she'll be back once visiting hours start at 8. She went to the hotel to shower and get you a change of clothes so you don't have to keep wearing the hospital gown. I know they're not the most comfortable." There seems like there's something not right with what she's saying, and she still can't figure out where Lindsey is, but she doesn't have time to think about it before the nurse is asking her with a smile, "So I hear you get to see your baby today? You're very lucky, everyone wants a chance to try the new ultrasound machine. I read that you can actually see the baby's heart beating."

She feels many things, but lucky isn't one of them, even though she's been told that she's fortunate that her baby is still alive and that she herself didn't have a seizure (or worse) from her crash course in sobriety. She's not lucky that in three days she's going to have to get on another trans-Pacific flight and smile and show everyone she's fine and she can keep going, no matter how awful she feels. She's not lucky that her baby's father is someone who hates her, who thinks she's worthless and useless and who she's afraid that she's afraid of on some unconscious level. She's not lucky that there still might be something terribly wrong with her baby and she only has herself to blame. But then she remembers how she felt when she listened to that fast paced thudding coming from the machine, how relieved she was when the doctor smiled and said _hear that? It's a perfectly healthy heartbeat_ , and how the word 'lucky' didn't even begin to do that feeling justice.

She only hopes Lindsey gets a chance to feel the same way.

\-------------------------

Robin takes the elevator up to the maternity floor as soon as visiting hours begin, trying to resist the temptation to hit her head against the wall as she curses the day that Lindsey Fucking Buckingham was ever born.

As the clock hands crept closer to the time that the group was scheduled to leave for the airport, Robin had made the last minute choice to go down to the hotel, ready to physically haul him into a cab if that's what it was going to take to get him back to the hospital. Through her calls to Mick and JC, she knew that Lindsey had turned up at the hotel and was fully intending to get on the plane to Hawaii with the others. Both of the other men had tried to talk him out of it - even Richard had attempted to intervene- but he wasn't listening to them. So off she went, determined that he was _going_ to listen to her.

When she got there, Richard was slumped down on the lobby sofa, smoking and looking pained. "Rob? I didn't know you were coming."

"Nobody did. It's a sneak attack. Is Buck in his room?"

Richard coughed. "Uh, no. He left."

"Left...for where?" Robin cocked her head toward the cigarette pack and held out her hand, and Richard obliged. She must have had as many cigs that night as she'd had in the entire last year- the last time she smoked that much, she was 16 years old and trying to impress a boy in her chemistry class with her rebellious ways.

Richard shrugged, his face drawn. "The airport, I guess. I dunno. I came back to his room a second time and it was empty."

" _Shit._ " She exhaled and then clenched her teeth together. "He didn't say anything?"

"Nah, but he left something for you over at the front desk."

"For _me_?" Richard nodded. She took in his concerned frown and realized that she must look about the same as he did. "So I guess you heard everything that went down last night."

"Yeah, everyone did. But don't worry, no one else knows about the...you know. Mick filled me in on that part later. How's Stevie doing? Is she okay?"

"She's hanging in there. She's mostly been sleeping, and that's good because the doctor said she's going to be feeling pretty miserable once she wakes up. But as far as they know, the baby," she mouthed the last word silently, "is fine. They'll do more tests today."

"Good, good," he said, his expression lightening briefly. "But this is crazy, right? This whole situation? I mean, what's gonna happen?"

"I wish I knew. Call me, will you? If you get to Hawaii and think there's...anything I should know about. Just between us, of course."

"Course," he repeated. He hesitated before offering her a hug, which she gladly accepted. They've always been close, her and Richard, and she thought of them as two sides of the same coin. He'd been her sounding board when no one else would understand and vice versa, and right then she would've loved to pull up a chair and tell him everything that was on her mind, but he had a plane to catch and she...had a package to pick up, apparently. "And hey, if we don't talk before then, I'll buy you a beer once you're there."

"I'm gonna need it." He gave her a little half-salute and she went over to the front desk, where the clerk handed her a large shopping bag with Japanese writing on it. Inside the bag was Stevie's favorite blanket, which had gone missing a few days earlier, and tucked inside the folded-up blanket was a note.

_I had to go. Need to be alone for a while. Tell Stevie I'm sorry and I love her and I'll explain everything when we meet up in Honolulu._

Shit.

\-------------------------

So here Robin was, back at the hospital to clean up the mess that Lindsey had left for her, and God help that man when she gets her hands on him...

It's not that she resents having to take care of Stevie, because that's what friends do. There's no way she would leave her best friend alone in an unfamiliar hospital in a foreign country no matter what else was going on. It's just that she shouldn't be the only one here with her, and she shouldn't be left having to apologize on the behalf of some selfish asshole.

When she gets to Stevie's room, she finds her unenthusiastically picking at an English muffin. It's not much, but it's more than she's seen her eat in days. "Breakfast?"

"Hey," Stevie says, glad for the distraction. They had already brought her this milkshake-like drink and a vitamin the size of a cockroach, which she choked down only because the nurse told her she had to start gaining weight for the baby, but now she feels bloated and nauseous and can't force herself to eat anything else. She sizes up Robin, who has several bags in her arms but is otherwise alone. "Where's Lindsey?"

She knows that she's not going to like the answer when Robin pulls the chair over to her bedside and sits down before speaking. "Stevie, hon, he's...he's not coming."

"But...what? I thought he was here. I thought you talked to him," she says, trying to remember what Robin had told her before. She knows he wouldn't just leave and besides, she was sure he could sense his presence somewhere nearby last night.

"I did, and the doctor talked to him too. She told him how you and the baby were doing, and that you were going to be here for a few days while you're getting better."

"But didn't you tell him I wanted him here? And that we were going to get to see the baby?" she presses, not understanding any of this. There's just no way he wouldn't be there if he knew she needed him. Yeah, she told him to leave earlier in the night, in the heat of the moment when she was so angry at him for the things he said and the way he'd treated her during the show. But then when she heard that little heartbeat, something inside her broke. She just wanted him with her and wanted to work things out, and she knew that if he heard it too, he would feel the same way.

"I did. But..." Robin reaches for one of the bags she had brought with her, which Stevie recognized from the day she and Lindsey bought Walkmans from that department store in Japan. She pulls out the blanket and Stevie lets out a little gasp of excitement, glad to have something familiar and comforting to hold onto. Then she hands her the note. "He left this for you."

She takes the piece of paper and holds it close to her face, squinting to read the words in Lindsey's typical scrawl. "I...I don't get it. You talked to him, Robin, what did he say? Did he tell you he was leaving?"

"No, I swear I didn't know he was going to do this." She twirls a piece of hair around her finger, debating how to put this to Stevie. "We did talk. He came to your room, but I said not to wake you up because I wanted to talk to him first."

"And what'd you tell him?"

"Basically? That it's time for him to grow up and stop treating you like shit. He's a father now, and you and the baby don't need someone who isn't being supportive." She hesitates. "He told me he needed to get some air and he'd be back. He went downstairs and...I don't know what happened. I called Mick later and he told me Lindsey was at the hotel and said he was going to Hawaii with the rest of them."

Stevie shakes her head, her eyes swimming. " No, that can't be, that doesn't make sense. Why would he -"

"I'm really sorry, Stevie. If I'd known he wasn't coming back upstairs, I never would've -"

"You chased him away! You had no right to say anything to him!" Outraged, she pulls herself into as much of a sitting position as she can manage. "I knew he wouldn't leave, I knew he would want to see me, but you probably made him think I didn't want him there! How's he supposed to be supportive if he's not even in the same fucking country?"

"I did not! I specifically told him several times that you'd asked for him, and that you wanted him here today for the ultrasound. All I said was that he better not cause more trouble than he already has. He was the one who wanted to leave."

"I don't believe you," she says tearfully, and the pain on her face makes Robin feel like crying right along with her. Everything she had said was the truth- but had she really gone too far? "He would never do something like that without a reason. You made him think he was a terrible father."

Robin holds back from reminding Stevie that she herself had basically said just that the night before. "No. All I said was that he needed to stop hurting you. Stevie, you've been pregnant for two months and you didn't even realize it because you were too preoccupied with all his drama-"

"I don't want to hear anymore. Leave me alone."

"Stevie..."

"I said, just go! I wanna be by myself for a while," she cries, clutching the corner of her blanket in one hand and the note in the other, holding them both to her chest.

Robin reluctantly does as she's told, almost colliding with the doctor from last night as she turns a corner. "Oh god, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention -"

"It's fine, don't worry about it. How's Stevie doing this morning? I was just about to check on her."

"Oh. Uh. You might want to give her a minute." Robin looks over her shoulder as if expecting to see Stevie behind her. "She just found out that her...her ex, I guess, who you talked to...he's gone. He left for Hawaii with the rest of the band without telling her. So she's pretty upset. I already got kicked out because she said it was my fault."

The doctor places a comforting hand on her arm. "I'm sure she doesn't mean it. People can get quite paranoid when they detox- let her have some time to herself and she'll probably change her mind before you know. But I'll be sure not to mention him to her."

"Probably best. Do you have a cafeteria or something around here? I don't want to go too far, just in case."

"We've got a family room at the far end of the hall in the wing opposite from us- and the couches are actually pretty cozy if you feel like taking a nap," she adds. "And after I look in on Stevie, we'll try not to bother her too much until it's time for the ultrasound at two, so that might give her a chance to get some sleep as well."

Robin thanks her and sighs, looking back in the direction of Stevie's room one more time before she walks away.

\-------------------------

Stevie didn't do much sleeping that morning.

She read the note that Lindsey had left over and over, trying to find some sort of answer hidden within the sparse wording. _I love her_. Those three syllables were each like another kick to her legs with those stupid cowboy boots and stung more than being slapped ever did. That was a momentary hot spark of pain, nothing like this where she felt it over and over and...he doesn't really love her. If he did, he'd be here beside her now.

_'You know I love you, right?' he asked as he moved inside her at an achingly slow pace._

_'I do.'_

_He squeezes her ass cheek and she giggles, her own hand fisted in the soft hotel sheets. 'Good. But I'm still gonna tell you again.'_

In the last few years, she's told him that she didn't believe him when he said he still loved her. She didn't want to hear those words and think about what they meant, especially when she felt like there was always an ulterior motive behind them, usually to try guilting her about however he thought she had wronged him this time. But now she realizes that deep down, a part of her must have really thought he was telling the truth. If she hadn't believed that he loved her, that he would support her and protect her when she needed him, then this wouldn't hurt so much now.

She pulls her blanket up to her chin and breathes in. It smells like Lindsey, like weed and rum and his shampoo and a tiny bit of her own perfume, and she wonders if he was sleeping with it before he returned it to her. She wonders what's going through his mind now that he's somewhere over the ocean, if he's thinking about her or wishing he'd stayed.

And now she's really all alone, regretting that she kicked Robin out. She shouldn't have acted like that, but she was in shock and embarrassed that she had kept insisting he wouldn't leave, and it was easier to blame Robin than to accept what she still didn't want to admit to herself - that he didn't love her after all.

Her nurse raps lightly on the doorframe before stepping into the room. "I'm here to take you downstairs for the ultrasound, if you're ready."

"Um. Yeah. I..." She looks toward the door and gasps when she sees Robin lingering in the hallway, looking hesitant. "Robbie?" Robin nods and gives her a little wave, and Stevie nods back. "Come in?"

"Are you sure?" she asks before she gets too close to Stevie's bedside.

"Of c-course I am, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says, the tears starting again. She's still kinda upset that Robin confronted him without her knowledge, but hey, she would've done the same thing if their roles were reversed. And Lindsey is nothing if not stubborn- if he really wanted to see her, the entire US military wouldn't be able to keep him away, let alone one pissed off best friend. "It wasn't your fault...don't be mad at me..."

Robin sits down on the edge of the bed and lets Stevie hug her. "I'm not mad at you, don't worry about that, okay? I don't want you to cry again."

"Everything makes me cry right now," she sobs, and Robin notices Lindsey's letter sitting right beside her, wrinkled and tear stained like she'd been holding onto it.

"I know it does, but you're going to feel better soon and then maybe you won't be crying so much," Robin says, hoping that it's the truth. The doctor had warned them that today and tonight would probably be the worst when it came to withdrawal symptoms, and she would start improving once she got past that. "Did you sleep any? Did you have lunch?"

"No and no. Everything hurts too much for me to sleep and all I had to eat was another shake, because they brought me meatloaf when I specifically said no meat. I threw up again when I smelled it! I just want sushi."

"You like sushi?" The nurse looks up from the chart she's been writing in when she overhears that bit.

"Oh, I love it! We were just in Japan for a month...it's where I got this," she says, pointing to her stomach with a laugh. "And now Japanese food is all my baby wants to eat. I've been living off noodles."

"I love it too- my mom's from Japan, so I grew up with it. There's actually a really good sushi place around the corner...if you want, I'll go get some on my break and smuggle it back here for you."

"You would? Really?" she asks, and Robin could just hug this young nurse, because it's the first time all day that she's seen Stevie smile.

"Of course. Anything to get you to eat." She pushes the wheelchair next to Stevie's bed. "Ready to go see your baby now?"

As the three of them made their way down the hall, Stevie saw Robin wave to a couple passing by. "Who was that?"

"Oh, just my new adopted Kiwi family," Robin says. She didn't get the chance to take a nap like the doctor had suggested, because the lounge was filled with an entire extended family waiting for their newest member to be born. Robin had almost left, not wanting to intrude, but they all swarmed her and insisted she join them, filling up a plate from the giant buffet they had brought for themselves and handing it to her. They were all so curious about their new American friend, and by the time she said goodbye, she was promising to keep in touch and come out to their farm for a barbecue if she ever found herself in New Zealand again.

As thankful as she was for a home cooked meal and kindly strangers, she couldn't help but feel a certain wistfulness when the new baby's father came in to announce his son's safe arrival and the whole room erupted in hugs and cheers. It was in such stark contrast to Stevie, alone in her room without family or even a husband to celebrate with, and all Robin could do was hope that it wouldn't be that way when the time came for her baby to be born. Robin herself would be there, of course...but she knew she wasn't the one that Stevie really wanted.

They go into a dark room with a large machine that takes up most of the available space, and Stevie reaches for Robin's hand, feeling a little intimidated. "Don't leave, okay?"

"I won't. I want to see this baby too!"

"I promise you, this doesn't hurt a bit," the radiologist reassures her as she gets settled on the exam table. "It's similar to what you had done last night. Most people say that the worst part is having to have a full bladder."

Stevie could relate to that, having gotten annoyed when she was told at lunchtime that she couldn't go to the bathroom again until the ultrasound was over. She shivers as she lifts up her nightgown so that they could squirt that cold gel on her stomach like they had the night before, making a mental note to demand she be allowed to shower once she was back in her room. The last time she had showered was late yesterday afternoon when she was getting ready for the show- less than 24 hours ago, but it might as well have been another lifetime.

The screen on the ultrasound machine is a black and white blur, like the static in between TV channels that she used to call the 'ant race' when she was a kid. She's surprised, having expected it to look more like an x-ray with the image of the baby colored all in white like a Halloween ghost tucked away inside her. "Is...what is that?"

"That," the radiologist says, clicking away at the buttons on the machine before he turns to her with a smile, "is a perfectly sized ten week old fetus." He points out a potato shaped blob in the middle of the screen. "See? There's the head, the biggest part, and that's the body. "And _this_ ," he adds, indicating toward one particularly bright flickering 'ant', "is the heart."

She can't speak for a moment, overwhelmed by what she's seeing. "So it's...I mean, it's happening right now?"

"Yes ma'am, it's just like watching live TV."

"Oh my God." Hearing the heartbeat had been an incredible moment, knowing that her baby was alive despite everything she had been through in her short life, but it was nothing compared to seeing this little blobby potato wriggling around right in front of her. "And she's okay? There's nothing wrong with her?"

"Well, it's too early to know for sure yet. Once you're in your second trimester, there are more tests that can be done to screen for birth defects or disorders. You might even be able to find out if you've got yourself a boy or girl here. But for now, we know there's a normal heartbeat and that he or she is the right size for their age. A little on the small side, but still in the normal range. They might just be petite like their mother."

"Yeah, my...her dad. He's skinnier than I am." It started as a joke, but the punchline nearly got caught in her throat. This was her daughter, growing inside her, but it was also his and she loved her for that, not in spite of it. "I just...don't know why he doesn't love us back."

She doesn't intend for anyone to hear that last part, but Robin does, and she leans down so she can speak quietly to her. "You two are going to be just fine, with or without him, you got that? Look at her. She's a fighter, just like you, and you are going to give her all the love she needs. Trust me."

On the screen, the baby wiggled as if to say she agreed.

\-------------------------

Stevie's afternoon post-ultrasound went well, all things considered. When she got back to her room, she was excited to find that several get well soon gifts had arrived for her, including the baby's first presents- a stuffed unicorn along with flowers from Mick and Sara, and a stuffed cat with balloons tied to it from Richard.

As she had requested, she got to take a shower, and sitting on the bench inside the shower stall while the hot water rained down on her was just what she needed to soothe her aching body (even if she stayed in there so long that the nurse came to make sure she hadn't fainted again). She also got the sushi that she was promised for dinner, and she ate every last bite while she and Robin talked about potential color schemes for the nursery.

Under the guise of getting a drink from the vending machine, Robin stepped out to make a quick call to the band's hotel in Honolulu so that she could update Richard.

"It's a lost cause. He slept on the plane and then when we got here, he said he doesn't want to see anyone or talk to anyone until the first rehearsal. That's two days from now, I mean...if I do talk to him, what do you want me to say?"

She sighed, debating. If it was up to her, she'd leave Lindsey completely in the dark. He deserved to worry about Stevie and his kid after he walked out on them. But Stevie herself likely wouldn't agree. "Tell him the baby's fine for now. And Stevie, she's...you know what? Just tell him the baby's fine."

Robin headed back to Stevie's room to spend a little more time with her before visiting hours were over and she'd have to go back to the hotel, hoping that Stevie would be in the same state as she left her in.

She was not.

"I can't do this, okay, I can't do this. Just get me a fucking Valium or something, because I can't," she said to nobody in particular, curled up on her side and rocking back and forth.

"Stevie...hey. What's wrong?"

"Wh- huh? What the fuck do you think?" she groaned, surprised to see Robin there. She could feel her heart skipping what seemed like every other beat, leaving her lightheaded and gulping for air, and she had the awful sensation of a thousand little pinpricks at once all over her skin. It was worse than any bad trip, worse than all her past comedowns and hangovers combined. If not for the baby, she would've been long gone and high as fuck right now. Maybe Lindsey was right and she was a junkie. No. Screw him. "I know what he's going to do and I'm not gonna let him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Robin admitted, frowning as she pressed the back of her wrist to Stevie's sweat soaked forehead.

"Lindsey! He's gonna try'an take my baby."

"You're burning up. I think maybe we should call the nurse," she suggested, but Stevie grabbed her arm, nails digging into her skin.

"Why aren't you listening to me? He thinks I'm a bad mother. He's going to take her away and give her to that whore Carol, I just know it. She's probably already with him right now."

Sensing that this was some kind of feverish delirium, Robin hit the button to call the nurses' station while Stevie was looking away. "He's not going to, I promise. What would Carol do with a baby, anyway? She can't even take care of Lindsey."

"That's how he's going to get her back! By replacing the baby she gave up before," Stevie insisted, not seeing the humor in Robin's attempt at a joke. Robin tried to remember if she'd ever heard about Carol putting a baby up for adoption or if this was in Stevie's imagination, but decides she has a vague recollection of hearing something like that. What she's sure about, though, is that Lindsey wants a child with Carol even less than he wants one with Stevie. "And if he...there is no way in hell I'm going to let her raise my daughter. They'll turn her against me. I can't let that happen, you have to help me."

Her pleading was interrupted by a nurse, one she hadn't met before, who took her pulse and shook her head. "You need to calm down, miss, or your blood pressure's going to go way up and that's not good for you or the baby."

Not good for you or the baby. _Some mother you are._ Stevie didn't know how the fuck she was supposed to 'calm down,' not when so many thoughts were racing through her mind and all of them were so urgent. She could hear Robin saying something to her but it was too loud inside her head for the words to make sense. Her limbs felt strangely heavy, too heavy for her to move, and then Lindsey was on top of her, holding her down by her hair. _nonono stop you're hurting me_ , she tried to scream, but she couldn't make a sound-

"Stevie. Stevie! Can you hear me?" Robin said, shaking her shoulder lightly. "She's been out of it like this for...it's been over an hour since the nurse came to check on her."

Stevie frowned, blinking. Wasn't the nurse just here? But she's gone now, and it's only Robin and the doctor watching her with worried faces. "Stevie? It's Dr. Jackson. Do you remember me?"

"Hmm." She nods, still trying to sort this through. "Did Lindsey...?"

"He wasn't here, hon," Robin said, and for once she was okay with that. She didn't want him to see her like this. _How the hell do you think you'd manage with a kid? There's no way you could! Fucking junkie whore._

"So Robin told me you're not feeling well," the doctor said gently. "Have you slept since this morning?"

"I...don't think so?" She looked at Robin for confirmation, not even sure if she was awake or asleep right then. It's all too much, all one long nightmare.

"Not this evening. She's just been tossing and turning, talking to herself, but she's awake."

"Stevie?" the doctor prodded, trying to hold her attention. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to give you something that should relax you a little."

"But...the baby, no, I don't want it." It was a lie, because she was more than willing to take whatever they were willing to give, but showing that she could be a good mother was more important. There couldn't be any reason for anyone to keep her daughter away from her.

"You don't want to hurt the baby, I know, and that's why you're going through all this now, right? So that she'll be born healthy," and a corner of Stevie's mouth quirked upward at the doctor referring to her baby as a girl, "but the best thing you can do for her tonight is get some sleep while your body adjusts. It'll bring your blood pressure down, which is what you need. We don't want you fainting again or having a seizure."

_Do it for her_. "So she...it's okay?"

"It's okay." Stevie closed her eyes again, the light above the bed making her head throb, and nodded in agreement. Even still, she couldn't help but feel like she was failing. How was she ever going to be a good mother on her own if she couldn't even get through this? If only Lindsey - no. She doesn't need someone who doesn't love her, who can't even lie directly to her in a stupid fucking note _(tell Stevie I love her)._

The doctor returned with a pill and she quickly gulped it down, the cool water soothing her parched throat. "You'll probably start feeling sleepy soon. Until then, just do your best to stay relaxed, alright? If you rest, the baby will rest too. And tomorrow you're going to feel better than today."

"Kay." She didn't think she'd be able to relax when sleep seemed so far away, when her mind is as restless as her shaking body and tomorrow feels like it's on the other side of a steep, imposing climb. "Rob'n? Don' go?"

"I won't. I'll be here until you fall asleep."

"'m scared," she admitted. "I just wish that..."

Robin carefully took Stevie's hand and put it on top of her abdomen. "Remember seeing her today? Focus everything you can on her. She can feel what you feel, and she needs you to be strong so she can be strong too. Just imagine what it's going to be like when you're holding her."

"Already holding her now," she said with a little chuckle, rubbing her stomach. She imagined the tiny potato blob on the screen, imagined her being able to feel the warmth of her mother's touch through layers of skin and muscle. She pretended she was back in the big glass house in her dream from last night, safe while the waves crashed against the walls, arms around her daughter to shield her from the storm the way that Lindsey had shielded her.

He'll come in from the rain soon. Then they'll all be together.


	32. I don't even know what I'm hoping to find (1980)

**_March 1980_ **

As if having one of the worst days of his life wasn't enough, now Lindsey was reliving it. Literally.

Through the magic of a little thing called the international date line, the flight from New Zealand to Hawaii had actually sent them back in time. When they landed in Honolulu, it was just after seven o'clock on Saturday night, which was about the same time that they had been getting ready to take the stage in Auckland yesterday (today? Whatever, he was way too drunk to make sense of this).

It's the closest he'll probably ever come to having a time machine, yet there's no way to erase what happened in the (past? future?) and redo it all. And even if he could, redoing those 24 hours wouldn't be enough. He'd have to go back to Japan, back to when they skipped over a whole day while traveling in the opposite direction, and not pick up the phone when she called him from the next room to tell him that she couldn't sleep. So what if it would mean missing out on the last time he was genuinely happy? He should know by now that happiness never gets him anywhere.

He heard a rustling sound, then noticed a piece of paper stuck in the gap between the door and the door frame. It's a note in Richard's handwriting:

_talked to Robin. baby doing fine. Lemme know if you wanna hang._

Lindsey wasn't sure whether to be pissed that the two of them are now in cahoots or grateful that they bothered to update him at all. Because despite what he knows everyone's thinking, he _does_ care about this kid.

Even Mick tried to guilt trip him as they were boarding the plane. "You know, you still have time to change your mind."

"Look, I don't need your opinion, Father of the Year."

Mick snorted. "Just because I'm a shitty dad doesn't mean you have to be one too, mate."

He was lucky that Lindsey wasn't in the mood to try strangling him again. Where did _he_ get off calling anyone else a shitty father? Hell, he remembers one time when Mick was 'babysitting,' which meant that his kids were running freely through the studio while he drank himself unconscious. The little one came over to Lindsey while he was experimenting with a new melody on the piano.

"Will you play with me?"

"Why don't you go ask your dad?" he suggested, not taking his fingers off of the keys.

She sighed matter-of-factly. "I tried, but he won't wake up."

"Well-" He turned around to see that they were all alone except for Mick, who was snoring away on the couch. Poor kid. How could he say no to her? "Yeah, okay."

"Hooray! Now we're going to play pretend. You're Daddy, and I'm going to come visit your house on holiday."

It seemed like there was something deeply wrong here with pretending to be her dad while the man himself was in the same room, but he figured he'd leave that for the kid's future shrink to handle. Fortunately Stevie walked in right then, Ginny under one arm, and within seconds the little girl was sitting on her knee while Stevie looped some of her long necklaces around her head to make a 'princess crown'.

She was a natural with that kind of stuff. She always had been. What would she even need with him? He'd just be 'causing problems', as Robin had put it.

Whatever. He helped himself to a couple Valium and then laid face down on the bed and waited for sleep to come.

\-------------------------

He wakes up to the national anthem playing on the TV as the station signs off for the night and finds himself on his living room couch, all alone.

He goes upstairs and peeks into the 'office', where Carol used to store all her clothes that didn't fit in their closet. It's now been converted into a nursery, a rocking chair beside the window and a white crib with a chiffon canopy in the corner, with a single balloon-shaped nightlight illuminating the room.

Mother and daughter are both snoring softly in the rocking chair, having apparently fallen asleep during a midnight feeding. He allows himself a moment just to watch, smiling at their matching expressions, before he reaches over and very, very carefully lifts the infant out of Stevie's arms.

She grunts the way that Stevie does when someone dares disturb her slumber and he's quick to shush her, lying her down on her tummy and patting her little back through her purple fleece pajamas until her breathing evens out again.

And now for Mom. He doesn't want to risk waking her up, knowing how much she needs her rest these days, but that can't be a comfortable position to stay in for too long and he doesn't want her to be achy in the morning. First things first - he pulls the strap of her nightgown back onto her shoulder, because he can hear it now: 'I can't believe you just let me sleep like that all night with my boob hanging out, Lindsey!'

He bends down and picks her up, her head lolling against his chest as she starts to stir. "Issshe... "

"Yeah, angel, she's asleep. Just taking you back to bed."

"Mmm." She makes no move to stand up and walk on her own, just relaxes into his embrace until he lies her down on the bed and then she rolls over onto her stomach, already starting to snore again.

He strips off his shirt and gets in beside her, one arm reaching out...but all he touches is an empty pillow.

\-------------------------

"Good morning," an accented voice said, and Stevie opened her eyes to see the nice young nurse from yesterday walking into her room. "How are we today?"

"Ehhh. Tired." Despite being annoyed at this early wakeup call, she was surprised to find that she was feeling...better. Still groggy and weak, but the pain wasn't nearly what it was the day before and she wasn't shivering and drenched in sweat. "Hungry, a little."

"That's a good sign! You look like you're improving loads," the nurse said encouragingly.

"It's all because of the sushi! I really owe you one for that." Breakfast wasn't quite as good as that tuna roll had been, but she had eggs and fruit and another one of those shakes without wanting to throw up afterward. She got up to use the bathroom and wash her face without getting dizzy, and she was just about to settle in for a nap when the phone rang.

She assumed it must be Robin, calling from the hotel to ask her something before she came back to the hospital. "Hello?"

"Stephanie Lynn!"

She held the phone away from her ear and cringed, the voice on the other end loud enough that she swore she could hear it coming from across the ocean. "Uh. Hey, Momma."

"Do you want to tell me why you're in a hospital in New Zealand and why I'm just now finding out about this?! And say hello to your father, he's on the other line."

"Hi Dad, how are things over there?" she asked as cheerfully as she could.

"Start talking, Stephanie. Your mother's worried sick about you."

She knew that was his way of speaking for both of them, even if he wouldn't admit it. "Sharon was supposed to tell you everything was fine!"

When she was on the road, she typically called her parents every Sunday afternoon. But her calls had been more sporadic this time, both because of the time difference and because she knew that they would be able to hear in her voice that something was very wrong. She told them before she left Australia that she would call them again on the day she got back to the US. Knowing that they would be expecting a call on Sunday, she had Robin ask Sharon to phone them and say that Stevie was fine but on strict vocal rest, so she wouldn't be able to speak to them for a few more days. But Barbara wasn't buying that, and so Sharon broke down and confessed that Stevie was still in New Zealand.

"Really, Mom, it's nothing. I'm alright."

Barbara scoffed. "What, so you just checked into the hospital for fun, like it's a Club Med?"

"Fine, fine," Stevie said, trying to make it sound like she was confessing something major. "I fainted after our last show."

"And?"

"And what? Everything's okay. Didn't even hit my head! See, nothing to -"

"I know that's not all. Because I know you wouldn't stay there for two whole nights while everyone else went on to Hawaii unless something was seriously wrong," her mother insisted. Hearing her daughter starting to sniffle, her tone softened. "Teedee, what's going on? Whatever it is, you can tell us."

She's pretty sure her parents are guessing that she OD'ed, and she doesn't know if hearing the truth will make them feel better or worse. It wasn't that she had intended to keep it a secret forever, obviously, but she wanted to wait to break the news to them until she had a more concrete plan in place.

"Uh, well. Shit. The thing is...I'm pregnant."

Silence. Then two voices simultaneously: "You're pregnant."

"Yeah." She feels like a 15 year old girl about to be shipped off to a convent, which was ridiculous for an independent 32 year old woman, but she knew that to them, it wasn't a matter of age. She was unmarried without even a steady boyfriend to speak of, and having a child out of wedlock was just something that was Not Done. "Momma?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't do that. Please don't cry, cause I'll cry too. Please?"

"Oh, I'm not crying," she said, lying blatantly. Stevie hears a clunk that sounds like the receiver being set down, followed by nose blowing.

Her father cleared his throat. "Does this...involve...who I think it involves?"

"Yeah."

She hoped that this was good news, that they would prefer it to having their grandchild's father be some crew member that they'd never met. "So why isn't he there?"

Now it was Stevie's turn to be the one to put the phone down and sob.

\-------------------------

Lindsey woke up disappointed that he was still alive.

It's not that he was trying to off himself or something. But if he _had_ died, he can't say that he'd care all that much.

After he realized that his moment of domestic bliss with Stevie and their unnamed baby (but it was a girl, he remembers the chiffon and the purple pajamas) was nothing more than a product of his drugged up brain, he did...something. He can't recall the details, but the room's a mess and the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is glass shards on the floor, so there's that.

(There aren't many suites he's stayed at on this tour where he _hasn't_ trashed something. He's becoming a caricature of the destructive, over-indulged rockstar, and he's not even having fun doing it.)

Once his rampage was over, he _does_ have a memory of going into the bathroom for more Valium. He's not as adept at the alcohol and benzos combination as Stevie is, and he knew he was probably within a few hundred milligrams of unconsciously choking to death on his own vomit, but he just wanted to be damn sure he was going to sleep without dreaming.

And he did. But in payment, he now has a bitch of a headache and the urgent sensation that he's about to puke. Which he does. At least he was awake enough to lean over the side of the bed so that it all ended up on the floor instead of the comforter.

He should clean that up, or get someone else to do it. But before he can decide on a course of action, he's passed out again.

\-------------------------

"I really thought it was gonna work out this time. Everything was so good. He told me he was breaking up with Carol Ann once we got home, and he'd come live with me. But then...I found out he'd asked her to marry him. He'd been engaged for almost two years! He said he never meant it and that's why he didn't tell me, but I was so upset. And then Carol, she found out what happened with me and him, and she left him and went back to LA. Lindsey was furious and he said it was all my fault and I'd ruined his whole life. He hates me so much now, I mean really _hates_ me."

Stevie wasn't sure if there was a time delay while the sound of her voice traveled around the world or if her parents were just trying to absorb the explanation she'd given them. They weren't stupid, they had to know that she and Lindsey never _really_ broke it off, even if she'd never explicitly told them so. "But he does know that you're..."

"Yeah, Dad, he came to the hospital after I fainted because he said he was worried about me, but we didn't really talk other than I told him I was keeping it, no matter what. Then I wanted to see him again after they finished all the tests but...he left. He gave Robin a note that said he needed to be alone and we'd talk more once I get to Hawaii. But I...I don't know what that's supposed to mean...I don't know anything!"

"Honey...you're not really going to Hawaii, are you?" her mother asked. " Wouldn't it be better for you to come straight home? "

"Of course I'm going! The doctor said I can," which is somewhat true in that she didn't say Stevie _couldn't_. As long as she's sober, what's it going to hurt? If she's made it this far...

"I'm just not sure how healthy it is for you to keep performing if it's already landed you in the hospital."

"But I'm feeling better already! Before, I didn't know I was pregnant and..." Her chin dropped and she stared down at the old shirt that she was wearing (Lindsey's, always). She said the next part in a hushed whisper, biting the inside of her cheek and squeezing her eyes as she spoke. This is what she's terrified of, what she hasn't even allowed herself to seriously consider yet because it's too much, but she needed to be able to say it aloud rather than letting it well up inside of her. "There...might be something...wrong. With the baby."

"Is that what they told you?" her father asked carefully.

"They don't know, it's too soon. But I'm ten weeks tomorrow and I only found out on Friday, so this whole time I've been..." She stayed quiet, hoping they'd fill in the rest for themselves. Again, they're not stupid. They know she gets high. "I would've done things differently. If I had known."

Barbara sighed. "Sweetheart, you can't think like that. They're just overcautious these days - I smoked the entire time I was pregnant with both you kids. Back then, people didn't think anything of it! When I was pregnant with you, I was past four months before I went to the doctor because they wouldn't see you until you were out of the first trimester. And heck, they even told me that having a cocktail or two before bed every night was good for your baby! That's the way they did things, and you turned out healthy as can be."

"I got to see her," Stevie said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "The baby. I could even hear her heart beating. They said it sounded real good and she was the right size for her age."

"See? Then there's no sense worrying about it now. You've got to keep your focus on getting well and figuring out how you're going to fix things with Lindsey before the baby comes."

Robin shakes her head as Stevie relays this conversation to her. "So your folks think that...what? You two should just grin and bear it for the sake of your kid?"

"Basically, yeah." Stevie leans against a windowsill in the hospital hallway, taking a quick breather to regain her strength. Yesterday she hadn't been able to walk further than her trips to and from the bathroom, so she was thrilled when the doctor said it would be fine for her to walk the halls as long as Robin was there in case she lost her balance. It was a little more tiring than she expected, and at first she wondered how she had gotten so weak in just two days, but then she remembered that now she was flying solo without the pills and the bumps she'd been relying on to keep going. "They don't get it, that it's not so easy to say 'okay, let's work things out.' Especially when I don't see him putting in any effort."

"Come on, we're almost to the nursery. Don't you want to see the babies?" Robin asks, holding out her arm.

Stevie reluctantly takes it as they shuffle forward. "One good thing Momma said was that she bets I'll be able to hide it for a while. When she was having me, she didn't look pregnant until the very end, just like she'd gained some weight. So here's hoping...of course, she thinks I'm crazy for wanting to keep touring."

"You'll definitely be able to hide it. With all the shawls and the layers, especially if you're wearing black, no one's gonna be able to tell while you're up on stage." Even though she was planning on performing for as long as possible, she'd decided that she didn't want the details of her condition to be made public. Gossip magazines already had a field day reporting on her every move, real or imagined, and she wanted this one part of her life to stay private. Maybe once the baby was born, once she knew that she was healthy, once she and Lindsey had come to some sort of agreement...

Goddamnit. It all keeps coming back to Lindsey.

\-------------------------

Lindsey remembers the father/son heart to heart he'd had with his dad not long after he'd started going out with Stevie.

It was the first time he hadn't come home at night after spending the evening at her apartment. The ironic thing was that they hadn't even had sex- they went back to her place after a gig and fell asleep snuggled up on the couch watching some midnight vampire flick, and when he woke up it was nearly 6 AM.

Because it was a Sunday morning, he'd hoped that he could sneak into the house without anyone noticing. But when he walked through the front door, there was his dad, lowering the newspaper he'd been reading and studying his son over the rims of his glasses.

"You get that girl pregnant, and you're going to marry her," he warned. "You think you're a grown man now, but with that comes responsibility."

Lindsey wasn't sure why it was only now that his dad assumed they were sleeping together, as if they couldn't have sex in the middle of the day (which they had), but he just nodded mutely and mumbled 'okay' before running upstairs to the safety of his bedroom.

To his naive 19 year old self, it didn't even really sound like much of a threat. He was already certain they were going to be together forever, so what would be the harm in pushing it up a few years? His parents had gotten married when they weren't much older than him and they seemed happy enough.

Half a decade or so later, he and Stevie were still childless and unmarried, although not necessarily by his choice. He never told anyone, but up until two days ago he sometimes wondered if he was shooting blanks. After so much time together and not always being that careful, it seemed crazy that they'd never had an 'accident', especially when she got knocked up about five minutes after she started seeing someone else (in the one month he _knows_ it couldn't have been his).

But now here he is, at the worst possible time to find out he's not infertile after all, and he wants so badly to do the right thing- if only it were that simple. He thought that leaving was for the best. She needed to relax and get well and focus on herself, that's what everyone kept telling him, and that obviously wasn't going to happen with him there. So he leaves, despite how much he doesn't want to, and everybody acts like he's one step below Satan incarnate. What the hell is that about? They all heard her screaming backstage that she hated him, and she already knew then that she was pregnant, so why do they think she'd change her mind in a matter of hours?

Not that he blames her for hating him. She's pretty justified in that. He doesn't blame her for being afraid of him either, or worrying that he'd hurt the baby. He'd probably feel the same way about someone who'd gotten physical with him multiple times while he was pregnant (even though he didn't know, it still horrifies him). He'd never, _ever_ lay a hand on his kid...but he doesn't expect her to believe that.

He thinks about the night she tried stealing those pills from him, how she pleaded that _you don't understand, there's something wrong with me_. What if he would've fucking _listened_ to her and paid attention to his intuition telling him that she wasn't well instead of focusing on how embarrassed he felt and how he wanted to humiliate her just as much in return? She could be manipulative, that was nothing new, but there's no way she would've tried to sweet-talk him after the way he'd been treating her unless something _was_ very wrong. The Steph he knew had way too much pride for that.

He should've taken her seriously, but he didn't. Instead he shook her, screamed in her face, made her cry (again) and then threw her out. Why the fuck couldn't he have just talked to her instead? Hell, why couldn't he have talked to her in the hospital? He shouldn't have lost his temper on her when she lied about there being nothing wrong. He should've realized that she was freaked out and promised her that she didn't have to be scared, that he was there for her. But he didn't, because he was too busy thinking about all the guys she'd screwed since she got knocked up.

(It still makes him sick to think about, sicker than the smell of stale vomit wafting up from the floor.)

So yeah, maybe they're both fuckups, but he's definitely the worst. And the shitty thing is that even if he _tried_ to be a decent person for once, there's no guarantees. He's spent literally half his life trying to make her love him and it's never worked, at least not for long. He begged her not to give up on him, on them, but she did anyway and it fucking destroyed him. The only thing that he can imagine being worse than losing her again is losing her _and_ their kid. He'd never recover from that. So if it's inevitable, why even bother?

He reaches for the phone. Time to call someone to come clean this shit up. In the meanwhile, he'll go back to drinking.

\-------------------------

Stevie and Robin stand in front of the nursery window, looking at rows of newborns swaddled in identical blankets and wearing tiny pink or blue caps. "I'm gonna have one of those."

"You are. Who do you guess she's going to look like?"

"Oh, I hope she's a little carbon copy of Lindsey. Can you imagine those eyes and those curls on a girl? She'd be gorgeous," Stevie gushes. Besides that, she wants there to be no doubt about whose kid this is. She wants complete strangers to look at her and know who her father is, whether he's present or not.

Robin sees her smile disappear and tilts her head toward her. "What are you thinking about?"

"I bet those babies all have married parents."

"Probably most of them...Stevie, please don't tell me this is about what your mother said. You're not seriously suggesting you want to marry him," Robin says, biting her lip to keep from rolling her eyes.

"Kinda hard to marry someone who won't even talk to you! But no, _no_ ," she promises. "I have no intention of that. Although...my head's all over the place. One minute I want him here, the next, I never wanna see him again. So much for clearing my mind by cutting out the blow, huh? I dunno what the hell my problem is."

Robin leans over to hug her from the side. "Go easy on yourself. You're still recovering and you're hormonal...plus you've never been very decisive when it comes to him, so why would you start now?"

"Ha, very funny," she deadpans, even though she _is_ smiling again. "Seriously, though- no matter what I want for myself, I'm done going back and forth with him. I know I say that all the time," she adds before Robin can, "but I mean it. From now on, I have to do what's best for my daughter. She might not have two married parents, but I want me and him to be able to get along as much as we need to for her sake...and I don't think that's gonna be easy. But I _know_ it's going to be a hell of a lot harder if our relationship is still. Y'know. Complicated. So he and I need to agree that it's over and we're not crossing that line again."

She sounds confident, but her expression is wistful. "It's the right thing to do, Steves."

It's a cruel irony that she's giving up on one dream- a future with Lindsey- for the sake of another. She tells herself that it's worth it to finally be someone's mom, especially when any sort of future with him was probably just that, a dream. They were never going to be anything more to each other than a warm body, and what kind of mother would she be if she sacrificed her daughter's best shot at a halfway stable family for the occasional fuck?

Because really, that's all it was. Everything beyond that was just failed experiments and wishful thinking.

Right?

**_three days later_ **

When Lindsey woke up, all he could think about was _Stevie's going to be here tomorrow_.

Not that he expected to see her. She'd be tired, jetlagged, and would probably want to go straight to bed to rest up so that she'd be ready for the next night's show, and as much as he wanted to be right there when she got off of the plane, he wasn't going to ambush her. It was enough, for now, to know that they were going to be in the same place again.

He got out of bed, took some aspirin and chugged two glasses of water to combat his lingering hangover, and then showered and shaved for the first time since he'd arrived in Hawaii. Feeling better for having gotten rid of four days worth of stench and stubble, he ate breakfast and then decided to go for a walk. He wasn't up to actual human contact yet, but he was finally ready to venture beyond the balcony of his hotel room.

It was still early enough in the morning that the beach was mostly deserted as he kicked off his sandals and tossed his shirt on top of his towel before wading into the water. The ritual felt familiar, a throwback to years of swim practices before school, only with sand under his feet and the smell of salt in the air instead of concrete and chlorine.

He wished he could say that he'd had some sort of breakthrough, some big come to Jesus moment where everything became as clear as the water he's submerging himself in, but so far that hasn't happened. What he's sure of is that he's tired of feeling sorry for himself. It might be too late to be the fantasy family that they had been in his dream, but five years from now he doesn't want some other guy being roped into pretending to be him while he's passed out a few feet away. There has to be some workable scenario in between those two extremes that he can be at peace with. But what that looks like, and how he's going to get there, are still mysteries to him. He just knows that he's ready to try.

That is, if she'll let him.

\-------------------------

Her blanket doesn't smell like him anymore.

Now that she's back at the hotel, the only scents on it are hospital smells, so she lights a few lavender candles to block the odor of rubbing alcohol and bathroom disinfectant. Much better.

She's under strict instructions to stay in her room and rest until it's time to leave for the airport in the morning, and she really doesn't mind following orders one bit. It feels good to stretch out in a king sized bed, wrapped up in a fluffy robe after a long hot bath, all pleasures that have been denied to her for the past four days.

She picks up her journal and her favorite pen and begins to write. At the top of the page is a sketch of what she saw on the ultrasound monitor, the grainy black and white image that served as her introduction to her baby. She wishes she would've brought her camera and taken a picture of the screen the same way that she took a photo of the TV while watching the moon landing.

Back then, Lindsey had been sitting next to her and laughing at her attempt to memorialize the moment. But now that he's not, she wants to be able to show him in as much detail as she can remember - and someday show her daughter as well. Maybe she'll even let her read an (edited) version of what she's written, so she can see how much she was loved from the time she was smaller than the kiwi she had for breakfast this morning.

She's feeling stronger now. Not 100 percent- but she _is_ pregnant, so perhaps that's to be expected. Every day, every hour, she becomes that much more determined that she can do this. She wouldn't call it a mistake, how she handled her last pregnancy, but she's going to do it differently this time even though so much is the same. She's changed; she knows now what she wants and what she needs. She doesn't need rehab or counseling or any of the other shit they tried to push on her at the hospital because she's not an addict and she's not crazy. Her daughter's going to turn out perfectly healthy and she's going to raise her with or without Lindsey's help and they're going to be fine.

Just don't ask her how. She hasn't quite figured that out yet.

\-------------------------

She really was glowing.

He thought it was just a saying, that whole thing about pregnant women glowing, but here she was. Her eyes are still tired and she moves more slowly than usual, but her cheeks are pink again and her whole face is softer and brighter now.

As always, she's fashionably late and escorted by her girls when she shows up to rehearsal. Everyone immediately stops whatever they were doing and rushes over to welcome her back with hugs and hellos. That is, everyone but him.

He watches her greet them all warmly, thanking them for the gifts and assuring them that she feels much better. It's still only the inner circle who knows about the baby, and twice he sees her hand lift toward her stomach before she catches herself and lets it fall back to her side.

Then comes the moment that neither of them can put off any longer, when the crowd dissipates and she has no choice but to go to him or turn and walk away.

"Hi," she says, staying just out of arms' reach. The sound buzzes in his ears, having expected that she would turn her head and hurry past him the way that she has so many times before. To his surprise, she doesn't look angry. Sad, yes, but not angry. And she really is glowing.

"Hi," he repeats. He's trying not to smile, afraid that she'll think he's being smug or flippant, but he just didn't realize how relieved he'd be to see her again. He knows he has a lot to answer for, and yet he can't help but feel encouraged. "You look...better. I mean, you look good. Really good."

Her eyebrows quirk in acknowledgement. "Thank you."

"Listen, can I -"

The words come out in a rush, but she still manages to cut him off. "We'll talk before we leave, okay? I promise. I'll let you know when I'm ready."

"Yeah. Okay." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{back in '97 next time. My birthday's in a few days, and comments are wonderful gifts! I'm so shameless...}}


	33. I'll be wrapped around your finger (1997)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{Hello! Once again, a reminder that I am not a medical professional *or* a professional historian, so please be gentle with me!}}

**_September 1997_ **

They both start laughing as soon as the car door closes, Stevie resting her forehead on Lindsey's shoulder. "We're such terrible actors. Especially you."

"Me? Oh, come on," Lindsey scoffs. "They didn't notice a thing."

"Sharon did for sure. I think she's worried we're running off to elope."

"Well, we've still got tomorrow afternoon free for a shotgun wedding," Lindsey says, only 95 percent joking. Stevie shakes her head in warning and he kisses her cheek. "One more day, and then we can start sharing the good news. As long as you're ready, of course."

Going back to rehearsal the morning after they found out that Stevie was pregnant had been a challenge. Despite her insistence that she felt fine, Lindsey was watching her the way one would watch a priceless heirloom in a room full of kindergartners, and neither of them could conceal the smiles on their faces whenever they looked in the other's direction. It was like the early days of rehearsal last spring all over again, only this time they had a bigger secret than how they were sneaking behind the building during breaks to make out like hormone-addled kids.

Stevie had talked to her doctor the night before and had made an appointment for the day after next. "That quickly? You must've been throwing your name around."

"Hardly!" she protested. "That was all Karen. When the doc said she'd refer me to a high risk OB, Karen called the office and asked what time they opened. They said seven, and she said I'd be there at six. She didn't really give them a choice."

"Sounds about like Karen. But...high risk?"

"Just because of my age and because of...before," she clarified quickly. "Not that she thinks there's anything wrong."

"Okay. That's good," he said, trying to convince himself. In his experience, they never called in a specialist to tell you how well you were doing, but he wants her to have the best care possible and so he says nothing. If she and her doctor are optimistic, he can be too.

"And she told me that as long as everything looks okay, she doesn't think it's a problem for me to keep performing for these first few months. Oh, and you'll like this. She told me to stop the diet. Babies need a lot of carbs to grow, who knew?"

She was torn when she heard this, imagining herself gaining back overnight all the weight she lost, although secretly she was glad to have an excuse to indulge. Now, if only she was hungry. She'd felt queasy all day, even though she suspected it was just because of nerves and excitement. But when she mentioned that she could go for some toast, Lindsey insisted on personally going to the grocery store down the block, coming back with a loaf of sourdough bread and the vitamins her doctor had suggested.

When he got up the next morning, he did a double take. "Did you eat that entire loaf of bread?"

"No! What are you, blind? It's sitting on the counter right in front of you."

"Okay, not all," he said, amused. "But most of it."

"I ate several pieces. It's for the baby!" She glared at him from over her glass of orange juice (no more coffee for her) and he laughed, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"I'm just kidding. What the baby wants, the baby shall get. Just like its mother."

And now mother and baby (plus dad) were getting on a private plane for their overnight flight back to California. Needing an excuse for their sudden absence, Stevie had told everyone that her mom had had a very minor heart attack. She was expected to make a full recovery, but she was understandably concerned and wanted to check in on her. Everyone was sympathetic and agreed that Lindsey should go with her for moral support. She felt bad about lying, and almost like she was putting a curse on her poor mom, but she told herself that it was just temporary and they would all understand when she told them the _real_ story. Besides, nobody other than Sharon seemed suspicious. Even Chris, who was usually a human bullshit detector even three bottles in, appeared oblivious and preoccupied with something else.

The biggest challenge had been acting properly solemn when she could barely keep herself from walking around all day with a big grin on her face. But now that it was just the two of them, the smiles and laughter flowed freely.

He fusses over her as she gets settled, reclining in her seat and covering up with one of her many cashmere throws. "Do you need anything else? More water? Are you cold?"

"I'm fine, honey. Even though I don't have my babies here to sit on my lap and keep me warm...you think they'll be okay with Karen?"

"They'll be alright. It's just a day, " he reassures her, sitting down and taking her hand in his. She wanted to bring the dogs with her, but Lindsey pointed out that they couldn't exactly take them to the doctor's with them, to which she had blinked and said 'but why not?'

"I just worry. They're already away from home, and I don't want them to think they've been abandoned, especially...it's going to be a big change for them, getting used to a newborn in the house. I hope they don't feel replaced."

"They won't. I know you've got more than enough love in your heart for all of them," he says seriously, struggling to keep a straight face because she'll get mad if she thinks he's making fun of her, the way she did when she was explaining to him that she wanted the dogs to see their new sibling on the ultrasound. "And hopefully some left over for me?"

"Mmm, I bet there is." She yawns, cuddling closer to him.

He kisses the back of her hand and then her forehead. "Get some sleep, angel. We've got a big day tomorrow."

"Remember...it might be too early for them to tell us much," she warns, as much for her own sake as for his. They were hoping that there would be something visible by ultrasound, and maybe even a heartbeat, but the doctor had cautioned her that it would be dependent on how far along she actually was.

"I know, but I can be patient. As long as I hear that you're both healthy."

She laughs sleepily. "You just want to hear that it's okay for us to have sex."

"You said it, I didn't," he points out, and she ducks her head against his chest shyly. She _might_ have tried to seduce him last night, feeling a sudden burst of energy after a nap and her toast, but he said no, not until she got the doctor's approval. It seemed pointless to her considering that they had been pretty...adventurous the night before, more so than they'd been since their early thirties, and she didn't seem to have suffered any ill effects. Still, he wasn't budging.

"I doubt you'll be complaining if we do get the go-ahead."

"If we do- well, we're gonna have a few hours to kill tomorrow afternoon, and I'll make it up to you then," he promises. It had been so tough to turn her down last night, especially once she was kneeling on the floor in front of him with her head in his lap and her hand disappeared down the front of her leggings. 'This may be your last chance before everything starts making me gag,' she joked, reminding him of the time before when she couldn't even brush her teeth without retching. She took him almost all the way in without teasing him for a while first, which usually meant she wanted him to hold her head down and fuck her mouth, but he settled for resting his palm on the nape of her neck and combing his fingers through her hair. At least, until she let out that choked moan that made his cock throb and held up the glistening digits on her right hand for him to suck clean...

Shifting in his seat, he tries to adjust himself discreetly, but when he looks down he sees that she's already asleep. He puts his feet up and moves their joined hands on top of her stomach, content just to watch her sleep for a while as the night sky rushes past.

\-------------------------

"Nervous?"

"Not at all, why do you ask, " Stevie says through clenched teeth, picking aimlessly at her nails.

Lindsey tilts his head to get a better look at her. "Are you going to be sick? I told you that you should've eaten more than just that banana-"

"I'm not going to be sick!" she snaps, pointing toward the stack of papers attached to a clipboard on his lap. "Just finish that up and stop with the questions."

"Fine, fine." They'd been given a mountain of forms to fill out, and after Stevie misspelled her name three times, he had silently taken the pen and paper from her and started answering as best he could.

She rubs the bridge of her nose, feeling guilty for being short with him when he was being incredibly patient with her. Yesterday she had been so hopeful, but when she woke up this morning she found that all her doubts and fears had crept in overnight. "I just can't keep from thinking about all the what ifs..."

"Hey, it's okay. Come here, " he says, setting the clipboard aside and pulling her into a hug. He wishes he could tell her that it's all going to be fine and that there's nothing to worry about, the way that he promised her once upon a time. But he's older now, and he's seen enough to know that fairy tales don't always come true, not even in her world. "Let it all go for now, and then after this, we can narrow down what we need to worry about. Right?"

"Yeah, you're right," she agrees, shaking her head as if it pains her to admit it. "Sorry I've been such a bitch all morning."

He was about to tell her that she wasn't any more bitchy than she usually was at this time of day, but he was rescued from this error in judgement by the doctor's entrance into the room. She was a tall woman with dark eyes and a soft, lilting Caribbean accent that set Stevie at ease. "It's lovely to meet you. I'm Dr. Armstrong."

"It's nice to meet you too, I'm Stevie and this is my- my boyfriend," she stutters, still not used to referring to him that way again. "I mean, and this is his baby, he's the father, we're -"

"I'm Lindsey," he finishes for her before she can start anxiously rambling about God knows what.

"He's Lindsey," she repeats. "We're so glad that you could fit us in. Because you know, our schedule is packed and we're back east right now, we just flew in this morning and we're leaving later today, but I've been going crazy ever since I took the test Sunday morning..."

Lindsey is about to elbow her to shut her up, but the doctor just smiles. "That's quite all right, I'm sure it must have come as a surprise. Let's do the ultrasound first to see where you're at, and then we'll go over your medical history before we send you downstairs to get the lab work done."

"Is that a-" he mutters under his breath once they're getting ready to begin. He had moved his chair so that he could sit beside her when she laid down on the exam table, and was surprised when the doctor pulled out something that looked like that vibrator Stevie had in the 80s...what was it called? The Magician's Wand?

"No!" she hisses, although it has a condom over it, so how is he supposed to know the difference? "It's just how they do ultrasounds when the baby's this small. Now stop making me laugh before I piss myself."

His attempt at distracting her works, though, because there are only a few more agonizing moments to wait before the doctor says "I've got some excellent news for you. Take a look right here at this dark spot."

"Is that the baby?" Stevie squints to see what she's pointing to, wishing she would've brought her glasses with her. That's what happens when Karen's not around to keep track of everything, she thinks to herself.

"Well, right now it's so tiny that it's tricky to get a good view of it, but there's definitely a baby growing in there," the doctor says, zooming in on what looks like a little bubble with an even smaller flickering blur inside. "And what you see right there, that's the heart beating."

Lindsey can barely resist the urge to jump out of his chair, so he settles for a fist pump as he and Stevie grin at each other in near disbelief. "So that's good, right, that's what we were hoping for?"

"Yes, it's very good. Since we can see the heart beating, you're probably right around six weeks along, which means you would've conceived about a month ago."

"In Phoenix, " Stevie mouths toward him, biting her lip. And here she thought she had just been unusually horny because she hadn't seen him for a couple of days...

Lindsey smirks. "Then yeah, that checks out."

"And that would put your due date right around the last week of April or first week of May. I like to give people a range rather than a specific date so that they don't get worried if the baby isn't born on that precise day," the doctor says, but Stevie barely hears anything she says after 'May.' She's okay with not having a date. If the worst happens, it's one less box on the calendar that triggers a visceral reaction in her the way that October 21 does, even though she ironically considers her birthday Samantha's as well. "But you'll most likely have a scheduled C-section because of your age, so you'll probably get to pick the date for yourself."

She's surprised to hear this, given that before the doctors had made a C-section sound like such an ominous threat. And yet she was still willing to risk it, anything to delay the inevitable and give her more precious time before she had to say goodbye, but in the end she was overruled. She blamed Lindsey even though she knew deep down that they had done the right thing, just because it gave her a momentary reprieve from blaming herself.

But things are different now. They've both changed, she reminds herself, and so has the medical world. The image on the screen right now might not be showing them any specifics about the baby yet, but the picture quality is much cleaner and crisper than even the 'cutting edge' (at the time) scans they got 17 years ago. Speaking of... "Can we, uh, can we just have a few more seconds to look at it?"

"I can do better than that," the doctor says warmly. "If you like, I can print out a picture for you. Something for the first page of the baby book."

Stevie gasps. "Oh please, yes, we'd love that. Honey, we can show it to everyone. We can show it to the dogs!"

"And I'm sure they'll be fascinated," Lindsey jokes. He certainly is. It may not resemble an actual baby yet, but he's never been more amazed by something so tiny. Although he had been able to see sonograms of their daughter, it had always been in the context of 'let's find out what's wrong'. This was the first time he'd had a chance to just enjoy taking in the sight of this little miracle- and to him, that's truly what this was. Magic just like its mother.

The doctor presses a few more buttons and then a printout emerges as she makes some notes on a sheet of paper inside a file folder. "So as far as the heart goes, we measure the number of beats per minute to determine if it's working the way it should- and in this case, we're right on target. Which is a very good sign, because that puts you at much lower risk for an early miscarriage, and that's always a concern with older mothers. It doesn't mean you're completely out of the woods, but it should be quite a relief to you."

Stevie nods emphatically but silently, knowing that the waterworks are about to be turned on at full force. When she glances over at Lindsey, she sees that he's getting emotional as well and quickly looks away.

"I'll give you two a moment and let you get dressed," the doctor says, collecting her paperwork once the machine's been shut down. Neither of them acknowledge her, too busy marveling over the photo in Stevie's hands.

"What do you think?" Lindsey runs his finger over the little bubble in the middle of the snapshot. "Is it a boy or girl?"

She's so enraptured by what she sees that she doesn't even notice how she's still flat on her back on the exam table, feet dangling over the edge. "Honestly? I don't know. Like, with Samantha I knew even before I got the pregnancy test results. If they had told me she was a boy, I would've said they had the wrong file, because I was that sure. But right now I don't have a strong feeling either way."

Secretly, Stevie's wishing for a daughter, but it's so unimportant to her in the grand scheme of things. People always say that they don't care as long as it's healthy, but she'd go even further to say that she doesn't care as long as it survives. Although when she looks back on it now, she can say that neither of them were in a particularly good space to raise a child in 1980, let alone one with a disability, they _had_ prepared themselves for what they thought was every worst case scenario possible. Except, of course, for the one they ended up with.

"Either way, it's amazing," he says, leaning in and resting his forehead against hers. " _You're_ amazing. I can't believe this is real."

She presses her lips against his and then they both smile at each other as they laugh softly, almost giddily. He's right; the phrase 'too good to be true' doesn't even do this moment justice. This is what they've both deserved for so long, after so many disappointments and heartbreaks, and she's going to let herself enjoy this with as little fear as possible because, again, she fucking deserves this. She could've stayed fat and psychotic and alone, or worse, but she got herself out of that place, thanks in no small part to the person who's beside her now. _This_ is why she's never given up on fairy tales.

"I love you. Now and always," he says quietly.

\-------------------------

He wants to say more, wants to ask her (again) to marry him right then and there. The ring's just a short drive away, sitting in a locked box in his room at home where it's been since he moved into that place. But he has to be careful, because this is the last time he'll ask. He feels good about his chances, better than he ever has before, but he wants to do it right. She needs to know without a doubt that he's thought this through and he's certain that he wants to be with her for her, not just because they're having a kid together and so they might as well get hitched while they're at it. If she trusts him on that one, he's sure she'll say yes.

Besides, he thinks ironically, it's not like they _technically_ ever got un-engaged. It happened silently, invisibly in the midst of so much chaos, that one day they were on their way to get married and then they weren't, they were living with other people and she wasn't wearing his ring anymore.

He got it back, though. Five years later, she showed up at his house unannounced in the middle of the night. It wasn't an unusual thing for her to do, because she'd never really stopped assuming that she was always welcome, but he hadn't actually seen her since about a year prior when they had an uncomfortable chance encounter at a mutual friend's party. She occasionally called or wrote letters or even sent him demo tapes and he always responded with a lukewarm reply, which was as far as it went. But here she was, on his front step in the rain. She had a habit of showing up during LA's rare downpours, and he wondered if that was intentional, a way of adding drama to the situation.

"Stevie?" He really wasn't sure if it was even her. She was soaked to the skin, hair frizzy and face noticeably bloated, and he noticed that her eyes were completely bloodshot without even turning on the front porch light. At the other end of the driveway, an expensive car he doesn't recognize was idling with its brights on.

"Yeah. I just wanted to give you something," she said, and the words were casual but her tone was almost frantic as she reached into her coat pocket and pressed something small and cold into his palm. "It was yours, your aunt's or whoever's, and you should have it."

He opened his hand and recognized it by the shape. It wasn't something they'd ever talked about before - although he assumed she still had it, he'd never asked for it back. He wanted her to keep it, because what would he do with it? It's not like he would ever give it to someone else.

"Steph," he said, the endearment rolling off his tongue unnoticed in his confusion, "what's going on? Why did...do you want to come in?" The fact that there's someone in his bed upstairs is irrelevant, concern far outweighing any potential awkwardness. "I'll make you some coffee, you can get warmed up -"

"Noo, I can't stay. Gotta go," she said, slurring the vowels.

"Whoever's with you- they don't have to wait around, I can give you a ride if you need it," he offered. Hell, at that point he was willing to invite the guy in if that's what it was gonna take to get her to stay. "I just...why now? I'm worried about you."

She bristled and he knew instantly that it was the wrong thing to say. "Why does everyone have to keep telling me that! I'm fine, okay, I'm fine!"

"Alright, alright," he said quickly, patiently. "I believe you."

She frowns at him in shock. "You...you do?"

"Of course," he lied. Of course she's fine, it's completely normal behavior to drop by your ex's place randomly at 3 am to return an engagement ring you were given five years ago. And why tonight? She's never been one to part with items of sentimental value, whether the sentiment itself was a good one or not. "Now come in? You look like you must be freezing."

She refused again, although she seemed a little less certain that time. "I've gotta go but...thank you."

"You can always come back, you know. If you change your mind. You're welcome here anytime."

With a nod she turned to leave, the dark sky and her long black coat making her seemingly vanish into the night.

She didn't come back. But he had the ring, and soon he'd be returning it to its rightful owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{this is new...I actually don't know what comes next. I have another mostly finished '97 chapter that I cut off the end of this one because I wanted to end it this way, and I have a 1980 chapter that needs a lot of work. You'll get both and it doesn't really change the story one way or another, it's just a matter of what I post first. So if you have an opinion, lemme know and I'll take that into consideration}}


	34. I intend to hold you for the longest time (1997)

**_September 1997_ **

"Oh _god_ , that was fucking incredible. Thank you."

Lindsey chuckles at her choice of words and her breathy sigh of contentment. "You're welcome. What the baby wants, the baby gets, right?"

On their way back to the hotel from the doctor's office, they had stopped at a drive-thru because Stevie was craving a cheeseburger. She finished it before they had reached their destination and then decided she needed almonds. He went to a nearby grocery store and got what she requested, and then they finally made it back to the hotel before she could ask for something else.

"I really shouldn't, though," she says reluctantly, sitting down on the couch and putting her feet up on the coffee table. It feels like it would be too easy to slip back into her binge eating days if she wasn't staying in control of what she ate, and she's been there already. Twice. Once when she was too drugged out to realize what she was even consuming, and once when she was in Europe and would eat herself sick on the rare occasions that she was hungry, in between trying to lose her practically non-existent baby weight so that she could forget that whole period in her life had ever happened.

"You should," he insists. "You barely ate anything this morning and you heard what the doctor said about not taking your vitamins on an empty stomach."

She reaches for her purse, pulling out a prescription bottle. "Yes, 'mother'. Look at how huge these things are! I think the vitamin itself is actually bigger than the baby is right now."

"You didn't tell me why she gave you a different prescription," he says as he goes to pour her a glass of water before she can ask for it. After they had gone over their medical histories and explained their past pregnancy to the doctor, she sent him down to the lab for a blood draw while she finished up with Stevie.

"Oh, I forgot you weren't there." While Lindsey was down in the lab, in between writing her a prescription for more vitamins and scheduling their next appointment, she had been surprised when the doctor started asking her more personal questions. Things like if she was feeling depressed or anxious, if she was worried about being able to stay sober while she was pregnant, and if she felt safe at home. The doctor said they did the same screening with every new patient, and Stevie believed her- but wow, how times had changed. She still remembers them yelling at each other in the ER in New Zealand, Lindsey obviously drunk and calling her a whore while she had visible bruises, and yet nobody had attempted to intervene or even said anything about it. Back then, that stuff was just considered your personal business. She can't imagine what would happen if they acted like that now, and she's relieved that she won't have to find out. "They're extra strength vitamins you can't buy over the counter because she said I needed more iron in the first trimester. Just as a precaution because of."

"Before," he fills in as she nods, setting her water on the table and tucking her legs to one side so that they're facing each other. "I'm proud of you. I know that wasn't easy today."

She shakes her head, lacing their fingers together. "It never gets easier."

He had automatically gone on the defensive when the doctor had brought up the baby they'd lost, trying to do as much of the talking as he could to spare Stevie from having to do it all herself. _I know now it was my fault, I never should've given her those damn pills._ And it was the same answer that they'd heard a million times, _we don't know why these things happen, but it's hardly ever just one single factor._ He doesn't know why that's supposed to make him feel better, reminding him of how many things he has no control over. But he wants Stevie to hear it, because he thinks she needs to, and he was grateful that the doctor was so compassionate and understanding toward her, reassuring her that she's doing everything right this time around. "I'm sorry. You never deserved any of this, you-"

"Linds. Don't," she says, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb. She couldn't bear to dwell on it any more today; she needed to put all her energy toward the healthy baby she was growing now. "You heard what the doctor said. Everything's gonna be different this time."

"You're right. God, it still doesn't feel like...I keep thinking any minute now I'm going to wake up. But it's real. You're real!" he says in a gentle voice, touching her stomach.

"Can you believe I've been growing this little one for a month already and didn't even know it?"

"It's probably tired of hearing the same four songs in rehearsal every day," Lindsey jokes. "I wonder if they've been taking notes? We could use a fresh pair of ears."

"They're going to hate our entire catalog before they're even born," Stevie agrees, putting her hands over her ears like they're headphones.

"Well, it's probably better than having to hear their mother tell me to finger her-"

She jabs him in the stomach before he could finish his sentence. "Better than hearing the noises you make when you're getting head-"

"Okay, okay. So their entire trust fund will go toward therapy. How about we say that and never speak of this again?"

"Fine by me! Let's call my parents now," she suggests with a smile, "and after that we should still have about two hours before we have to leave for the airport."

"And I'm going to use every last second," he promises, putting his arm around her as she dials.

"Mom?"

"Oh, there you are! You must have gotten my message," Barbara says.

"A message? No, what's going on?"

"You didn't? I called the number you gave me, did you change hotels?"

"Oh. We're. We're not there right now, actually, Lindsey and I...we're in LA," Stevie says. "Is Dad around? We have something we want to tell you both."

"And would this have anything to do with why I got flowers delivered here this morning wishing me well after my heart attack? " Barbara asks pointedly.

"Shit!" she mouths to Lindsey, who's trying not to laugh. "Um, actually, kinda. Will you go get Dad and then I'll explain?"

She can hear her mother calling for him, telling him she was on the phone. "Well, Teedee, whatever it is you're up to, it's a lovely bouquet. Be sure to thank the others for me."

"Okay, I'm here," her dad says cautiously.

"Hi Dad. Lindsey's here on speaker, say hi to him too." The two men trade hellos as Stevie takes a deep breath. "So I'm just going to come right out and say it - we're having a baby. "

\-------------------------

What a difference 17 years makes.

Of course, her mother still cried. Stevie cried too, but without the fear and ambivalence that had weighed on her before.

Her parents were full of questions - especially her mom. "A...a baby. As in, you're pregnant? But how?"

"How do you think, Ma?" she asks, laughing. "You sound like Lindsey. I wasn't expecting it, but I started feeling weird so I made Karen go get me the test and...voila! Then she made us an appointment for today and we flew back home late last night after rehearsal."

They explained what had gone on at the doctor's, about the ultrasound and about what their next steps were. The doctor had laid out all the options for different prenatal tests they could have done, starting with sending their blood samples to a geneticist, and they had been in agreement that they would go ahead with all of them. They hadn't really talked about what they would do if they got bad news, but they knew that they wanted to find out as soon as possible. "And our doctor, she was great. She actually knew what we were talking about, and she'd even seen a baby before that was...like ours was. Same condition. She said that by 12 weeks we'd be able to do another ultrasound to specifically rule that out because she knows what she's looking for."

"But she doesn't think that..." her dad says.

"No, no. Technically we're at a higher risk because of our history, but the odds are still low. She was more worried about me than the baby, that I might have diabetes or high blood pressure once I'm further along since I'm older, but for right now she said I'm perfectly healthy."

"What did she think about you working?"

She reassured her mom that she got the go-ahead. "It's not going to hurt me or the baby- she just told me to stay off my feet and rest as much as I can. Let Lindsey wait on me, I believe those were her exact words."

"And what are you thinking about all this, son?" Jess asks Lindsey. "You've been awfully quiet, but I know it's impossible to get in a word edgewise between these two."

"I'm...God, I think I'm still in shock. Just can't wait to meet this little one, you know?" He looks over at Stevie, beaming with pride. "But don't worry, I'll make sure Stevie takes it easy."

"How have you been feeling so far?"

"Doing okay, Mom. Bloated, a little achy, and now that I ate I can feel the heartburn setting in," she says as Lindsey gets up and starts looking for something in the suitcase he brought. "Kinda queasy here and there but I haven't thrown up yet, although I was sure it was gonna happen when we were about to land. Linds said I was the color of Kermit the frog." He nudges her hand and she's surprised when he drops a few of the cherry-flavored antacids she'd lived off of during her last pregnancy into her palm. "Where'd these come from?"

He shrugs. "Picked them up when I got your vitamins because I figured you'd need 'em eventually."

"Aww, honey, that's so sweet. I can't believe you remembered," she coos before turning back to the phone. "Did you guys hear that? I guess I have to keep him around now."

"Glad you're taking care of her- and our grandchild. They're in good hands," Jess says. She could tell from her parents' voices that they were optimistic, albeit maybe a tiny bit cautiously, and that they were thrilled by the idea of a new addition to their family. By this point they had given up on more grandkids, she was pretty sure. Hell, her mother had told her over the summer that they thought she would never 'settle down', at least until Lindsey came back into the picture. It worried them, she knew, because they were getting older and wanted to think that she wouldn't be alone once they were gone. She's happy that they won't need to worry anymore and she's even happier that she's finally going to give them a grandchild. It was hard on them when she lost her baby at a point when they were starting to get used to to the idea, and for years she interpreted their reluctance to talk about it as meaning that they too blamed her- a misconception that drove a wedge between them that never got resolved until after her second stint in rehab.

They talked for a few more minutes before Stevie told them that she wanted to 'go lie down'. But her mother had one last question. "I still don't understand how this ties into me having a heart attack."

"Well, we didn't want to tell everyone why we were coming back here, so I kinda made that story up so we'd have a reason to leave quickly. But don't worry, we're gonna tell then the truth now that we know the baby's doing okay," Stevie reassures her.

"Stephanie Lynn, if you cursed me by saying that...but tell them thank you for the flowers, and for their concern."

"Will do...I miss you guys. Give Chris and Lori and Jesse hugs for me, okay, but keep it a secret for now. I wanna call and tell them myself once we're back to the hotel."

They said their goodbyes, and the second that she hung up the phone, Lindsey was pulling her into his lap. "Wait!"

"For what? Do you feel alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, it's not that. Just something I wanted to ask you." She looks down at their hands, lips pressed together. "And I don't expect an answer right away, so don't feel like...I just want you to consider it."

"Okay..."

"See, I've been thinking about what happens once the tour ends." Right now they were booked through late November, which would coincide with the end of her first trimester. There had been talk about a European tour in the new year, but nothing had been formalized yet, and so she was planning to tell the others that she wasn't committing to anything beyond what she'd already signed on for. Maybe she'd be up for a couple of one-off performances during the winter, but she'd already done the whole performing into her second trimester thing and let's face it, Lindsey was right when he said that she wasn't 30 anymore. "And we haven't really talked much about...I mean, I assume you were planning on going back to the way we were, with you staying at my place. But I guess that I'm hoping...for something maybe a bit more permanent. I want it to be _our_ place."

"So...you're asking me to move in with you."

"Yeah." She finally looks up, trying to gauge his expression. "I know what you said before, that you didn't want to officially move in until you were sure that it's for good. And that's what I want too. I want us to all be together and I want you with me, permanently."

Lindsey couldn't help but feel guilty at how nervous she was about asking for something that should be a given now that they were having a baby. He'd meant it when he'd said that he couldn't bear to be left again, but now everything is different. They're going to be raising a child together, so they're going to be connected no matter what else happens between them. "Steph. Do you really think there's anywhere else I'd want to be other than with you two? There's no getting away from me now."

"I guess that's a yes?" He nods and her whole face is transformed by her wide smile. It wasn't that she expected him to head to his own house at the end of the tour, but she wanted to make it 'official' rather than wondering if one day he'd check out and tell her that he'd be back once the baby was born. She remembers how lonely she was during the month she spent at her parents' while she was pregnant before, how even though she had her mother taking care of everything she needed, she still felt his absence so acutely and wanted nothing more than to have him there with her. "And we don't even have to...my lease is up on the condo soon anyway, and it's really not an ideal place for a kid. We can start looking for something else."

He raises his eyebrows. "You weren't planning on going back to Phoenix?"

"Oh. I...I don't know, I didn't even really think about it. I just assumed that you'd want to stay in LA."

"But you- I mean, you like it there." He knew she'd needed some space to be independent of her family after she'd gotten out of rehab, and that's why she'd rented the condo, but she still seemed to spend most of her time in Phoenix when she wasn't working. He figured that if she was serious about living in California more permanently, she would've found a house by now. "And that's why you had that place built to begin with, because you wanted our kid to grow up in it."

Her throat feels unexpectedly tight when he says that. It was true that she had designed it with them in mind, herself and Lindsey and their daughter (and any other children that might have come later), but that dream had been stolen before the walls were even constructed and over the years, she'd begun to accept that Jesse would be the only child to call it home. "I did. But I wouldn't ask you to move..."

"I know you wouldn't. And I also know that's where you really want to be." He sees her hesitating and continues. "Right? You want to have your parents nearby, and you want this little guy or girl to be able to run around with the dogs and their big cousin. We can do that. There's no reason we can't. We'll still have my house here and it's just a short drive, or an even shorter flight. It's not like moving to the moon."

"You really want to live with Chris and Lori?" she asks skeptically.

"I think the real question is- does Lori want to live with me?" He and Chris had always had a fairly solid relationship, so he wasn't too worried about that. Lori used to grudgingly tolerate him (at best), but when he saw her last spring, it seemed like maybe she had warmed to him somewhat. And if she sees firsthand that he can be a decent boyfriend and father, what would she have to dislike? "But seriously, we can make it work. If I can deal with Karen coming in and out of the condo all the damn day, I can handle anything."

Stevie gasps as if he just suggested dropping the dogs off at the pound. "We can't just leave Karen behind! I need her help, especially once the baby comes."

"What's Karen know about babies?"

"What do _you_ know about babies?" she retorts. "I mean, all _I_ know is from Jesse. At least Karen used to be a nanny when she was young."

"'Used to be' a nanny? Because I think she still is...fine, fine, we'll bring her with us." He's not sure why four adults would be unable to handle the day-to-day life of two kids and two dogs without Karen on site, but Stevie seems to have it all figured out.

"Good. Because eventually we're going to end up on the road again, and I'm not going to hire just anyone to look after my child. I'd rather have them know Karen and be comfortable with her from the start."

He decides it's a moot point to ask if she's run this plan by Karen herself yet. "Now I just have to decide how I'm going to manage living with someone who I know has gotten to second base with my wi- girlfriend."

"Will you stop!?" Stevie's pretending to swat at him like a fly, so distracted that she doesn't notice his near slip-up. "I would've never told you that if I knew you were going to act like a 12 year old."

"Oh, I'm sorry that it's weird to me that you made out with your sister in law!" he says, laughing in relief that he wasn't caught.

"She wasn't my sister in law then! It was years before she and Chris even started dating."

"Does Chris know?" he asks. It's not that he really believes there was ever some sort of passionate affair between the two women (or else he really would have a problem with them living together), but he's having way too much fun watching her squirm.

"If he does, I didn't tell him." Lindsey makes an 'aha' face and she rolls her eyes. "What, like you tell your brothers about everyone you've kissed?"

"I would if they were going to marry one of them!" When she rolls her eyes again, he pulls her in closer so that her head is resting against his chest. "I'm just kidding. You know me, jealous 'ol Lindsey."

"And here I was thinking you'd gotten past that," she says with a smirk. He really had, or at least he'd learned to hide it better. As they've been doing more press and meeting with more people in the run-up to the tour, she'd gotten her share of men not so subtly hitting on her, but Lindsey had seemed to take it all in stride.

"Nah. I still wanna sock some of those guys I see staring at your ass...but in a way, it's kind of a turn on. Because they can check you out all they want, but I know I'm the only one who gets to have you."

"Yes, you are," she says, tilting her head up so that she can reach for his face and pull him down for a kiss. "Bed now, please."

"You tired?" he teases as her fingers start working at the buttons on his shirt.

"Hardly." They make it into the bedroom and he stops her with the back of her knees against the foot of the bed, pulling off her blouse and kissing the exposed skin of her shoulders. He reaches behind her to unhook her bra and she touches his bicep in warning. "Remember, keep your hands off."

"Guess I'll have to find something else to hold onto." He gives her ass a squeeze as he kisses her, his tongue pushing past her lips and tasting the salt from the almonds she'd been eating. His hands move slowly up and down her sides, making her shiver, tickling her just like the slight stubble brushing against her face as she sucks on his tongue.

"Mmm. Linds," she sighs, gently running her fingernails over his chest. "C'mon, I'm impatient."

"Oh, really?" He nudges her to lie back on the bed and slowly pulls her leggings off, then her underwear, before straightening up to admire his handiwork.

" _Linds_..."

"Sssh. I just wanna look at you." She's gorgeous now, soft pale skin and even softer curves, but he's still awaiting the day when there's a visible reminder of this amazing thing that they created together.

She follows the path of his eyes with her own, his stare warming her even as she's got goosebumps from her naked body adjusting to the cool air of the room. "Better get a good look now before I gain 40 pounds."

"You," he says, kneeling down in between her legs, "are going to be stunning even when you're wider than you are tall."

Her hands fly up to cover her face as she shakes her head. "Oh god, don't say that!"

"It's the truth." He certainly doesn't have a pregnancy fetish or anything, but the thought of her lounging at the head of their bed, one hand cradling her bump while she beckons to him suggestively... _damn_.

She sucks in a breath, tilting her hips toward him when he draws a line with his tongue starting just above the patch of hair between her thighs and ending at her belly button. He kisses his way up her stomach and in between her breasts, then up her neck before nipping at her earlobe. "Mmm. Baby. Just fuck me."

"You want me to fuck you, pretty girl?" he asks, moving a piece of hair away from her face.

She nods emphatically, having almost cried with relief earlier when the doctor had given them the green light. "Now. I'm ready."

"Huh. Good to know." He cautiously licks at one of her nipples, and when she doesn't push him away he circles his tongue around it, taking it into his mouth as she reaches for the back of his head to hold him to her.

"Oh god," she purrs. He reaches down in between her legs and starts stroking gently, fingers stopping just shy of her clit every time even as she starts wriggling against his hand. His lips wrap around her nipple and suck on it ever so softly, kissing the very tip of the little bud before releasing it with a pop and turning his attention to the other breast. She's lightheaded, overwhelmed by the sparks of sensation that seem to be running through her veins like wildfire. "Oh god, I'm gonna. I'm so. Please."

"Please what?" he asks, pumping two fingers in and out of her at a steady pace.

"Need you." He knows her too well, the sly bastard, knows how to bring her right to the point where she's about to go over the edge and then leave her hanging. "Need you inside me."

He relents, but not before brushing his thumb over her clit to coax one more gasp out of her. "How do you want...are you sure that's okay?"

"It's fine, hon," she promises after turning over to lie on her stomach. She'd rather do it with him on top, but she knows he'd be paranoid about keeping his weight off of her. "I'm not going to squish the baby, they've got enough padding. I swear."

She hears him unzip his jeans and raises herself up slightly on her knees in anticipation. He wraps his hand around his cock and thrusts into the circle of his fist a few times to take the edge off before kneeling down on the rug at the foot of the bed and lapping at the back of her knee with his tongue.

"Jesus!" she yelps as he chuckles. "You know I'm ticklish there...oh. Oh god."

He kisses the top of her thigh, right where her leg meets the curve of her ass, and then his mouth moves inward until he can lick a long stripe across her slit. "So wet for me, aren't you?"

"Linds, baby. _Now_."

He forces himself to take it slow even as she's moving in tandem with him, deeper inside her with every stroke. "Steph...mmm. Feels good."

"So good." She lifts her ass higher and moans as the head of his dick hits just the right spot inside her. "There. That's- more. Yeah...don't stop..."

He reaches around her leg and starts rubbing her clit, smirking as she instantly tightens around him. "Come for me, babe. Lemme see how much you love me fucking that tight little pussy."

" _Godddd_ ," she cries out, the top of her head resting on the pillow as she squeezes her thighs together to hold him in place as she comes. She rocks her hips back and forth several times as the aftershocks start to recede, her arms unable to hold her up any longer. "Fuck. Turn over."

"What, on my back?" She nods and he reluctantly pulls out, lying down beside her. His cock is drenched in their arousal, his and hers, bobbing urgently until she sinks down onto it.

"Oh yeah. Much better," she says with a broad smile, leaning forward so that they can be skin to skin as much as possible. She's got her legs in between his, her clit grinding against his pelvis and her breasts brushing over his sweat-dampened chest, and when their eyes meet she finds herself nearly overwhelmed with emotion. "I love you."

"Love you too," he mouths. His hands move from her back to her ass, steadying her as she slides up and down on his dick. She's maddeningly tight at this angle, so much so that he almost can't move inside her, and every time she lifts herself up he can feel her contracting around him.

When she comes this time, he does too, but they're both still touching and kissing each other afterward with just as much intensity, neither one of them sated yet. And the best part is that, unlike the hundreds of hotel room trysts they've had before, they're not bound by the clock. Sure, they'll have to leave for the airport shortly, but they'll leave together. There's no one else they're supposed to be with and no inevitable separation waiting for them on the other side of that door. They'll see dozens more hotel rooms this autumn and fall asleep beside each other every night, and when they go home at the end of the tour, they're going home to finally be 'a real family' like she promised him they'd be almost two decades ago.

It feels good. Feels _right_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time- back to Hawaii, back to 1980, time for these two to have their talk.


	35. are we gonna make it? (1980)

**_March 1980_ **

Even though he was expecting the knock on his hotel room door, Lindsey was so startled by it that he spilled an entire glass of water down the front of his shirt.

He tried to pull it off and unlock the door at the same time and struggled with both, fumbling with the chain blindly while his face was covered by his shirt. When he finally yanked the door open, the t-shirt was still stuck around his head like a makeshift bandana. "Um, hey."

"Everything okay?" Stevie asks, frowning at his odd accessorizing.

"Yeah, everything's cool, just spilled some water." He tosses his shirt onto the floor and motions toward the couch, urging her to sit down. "Can...do you want anything to drink, or?"

"No, I'm fine. Brought my own," she says, holding up a glass tumbler filled with a deep red liquid that he hadn't noticed until now. "Don't worry. It's cranberry juice and ginger ale."

"You don't like cranberry juice."

"I don't, but I guess this baby does because I had this weird craving for it, so I mixed it with ginger ale and I'm pretending it's a nice red," she explains, a twist on her usual hangover remedy of ginger ale and whatever alcohol tickled her fancy at the time.

"Oh. So is it...I mean. How are you feeling?"

He was almost afraid to ask the question. It had been two days since she arrived in Hawaii, and the only real interactions they'd had were strictly work-related. She hadn't been rude or cold to him, just guarded, and he had been doing his best to trust her when she promised him that they'd talk before they left and give her some space in the meantime. Not that it stopped him from worrying about her. At their first rehearsal, he'd suggested rearranging the setlist so that there would be a longer stretch in the middle of the show where she could take a break.

"I didn't ask for a break," she pointed out, arms crossed over her chest.

"But it'd be good for you to sit down for a few minutes, drink some water -"

"If I thought I needed a break, I'd ask for one," she said sharply. "But I don't."

He dropped the subject, not wanting to provoke a fight. And to her credit, she hadn't seemed to struggle during either of the last two nights; at least no more than anyone else was struggling with back to back shows at the end of a two month travel marathon. They might not have been her finest performances ever, but they were better than the New Zealand shows and she had managed to charm the audience in the same way that she usually did.

"I'm...I'm feeling okay," she says, and it's not entirely a lie. The first morning in Hawaii had been rough- she was pretty sure that she had lost any weight she'd gained during her hospital stay just by throwing up. She was tired in a way that she wasn't used to, and whether that was due to pregnancy or sobriety, she couldn't tell. It hadn't occurred to her until about an hour before showtime that she was going to have to go out on stage without having consumed anything stronger than 7Up, which was something she hadn't done since her last high school talent show. Even in her early Fritz days, she'd always had a nip from someone's flask for 'good luck' before stepping up to the mic.

To her surprise, she didn't miss it as much as she thought that she would. She felt silly saying it, but knowing that she wasn't alone, that her daughter was with her, gave her a needed extra boost of courage. She wanted everyone, from her baby to her bandmates, to see that she was strong and she could handle whatever came her way.

(She still cried herself to sleep at night, the way she'd done since she found out that she was pregnant, but only then. And sometimes in the shower. Only times when no one else would know.)

"I'm okay."

"That's good," Lindsey replies, nodding for an unnecessarily long time. "Because you look...good."

"Thanks."

"You're up really early," he says lamely, just to prolong the chit chat. He had been surprised when she approached him before the show last night and asked if she could come by his room to talk at what most people would consider to be breakfast time.

"Yeah, I guess I'm still a little jetlagged, and it's hard to sleep when I keep waking up because I have to pee or I have a charlie horse or something." She shrugs. "Plus they made me get up at seven every morning in the hospital."

"Oh yeah, the hospital. How was that?" he asks before he can realize what a stupid fucking question that was.

"Fine," she says, lips pressed together tersely. "So. You wanted to talk. I'm listening."

"Um. Okay. I." He hadn't really rehearsed what to say, because he was never great with a script, and he was kinda just hoping the right words would come to him by magic when he opened his mouth. "You know, the thing is." He taps his fingers on his jean-clad thigh. "I spent so much time wanting this. Years. Hoping we'd be a family. And then it happened, but it's...this isn't at all what I expected it to be like. I'm sure you get what I mean."

She nods but stays silent, her face not betraying whatever was going on in her mind. But he's not as adept at hiding his emotions, at least not when it comes to this, because he's already starting to cry like a little bitch, as she would put it. Whatever. At this point, why bother to try hiding it? He literally has nothing left to lose, including self-respect.

"I fucked up. I know I did. All the way back to when...well, I should've never asked Carol to marry me in the first place, but I shouldn't have lied to either of you about it. I should've told her back in Japan that we were over, and then maybe none of this would've ever happened. Because I _was_ telling you the truth when I said I never really wanted to marry her."

"I don't believe you," she says, surprised at how easily that slipped out. So much for telling herself she was going to listen and not argue. "You didn't even try to understand how I was feeling- you threw a tantrum, you blamed everything on me not marrying you before, and you were back with Carol practically the next night!"

"You were _literally_ with someone else the next night!"

"See, there you go again! I'm not the one who fucked up. You were," she says, setting down her glass for the first time. "You chose her over me, more than once. She's your 'whole goddamn life', remember?"

"I wasn't talking about her, I was talking about _you_! _You_ are my whole goddamn life!" he shouts, and how did this get out of control so quickly?

"I'm not going to sit here and let you yell at me," she announces, moving to stand up. "I don't need this."

He shoves his hands under his thighs to keep himself from reaching out to pull her back down. "Stevie, no, don't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Please, just let me..."

"Fine," and it's hard to tell which one of them is more shocked by her quick acquiescence. "But I'm not doing this for you. The only reason I'm not walking out is because of her."

"I'm. Thank you."

"I know what I said before but...I'm not going to try and keep her from her father. That's not fair to her. I want you to be a part of her life, if that's something that you want -"

"I do," he says quickly, relieved that she had come to this conclusion on her own. Now he _does_ have something to lose- or something to gain, depending on how you looked at it. "I want to be there for her, and you."

Her eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. "Could've fooled me."

"I'm sorry. You have no idea how much I...it was killing me, not being there, not knowing what was going on."

"There was an easy solution to that problem, y'know," she says, unmoved by his tears. "You could've been there. It was your choice."

"I know that! You're right, it was my choice, and it was the wrong one. I just...fuck," he groans, head in his hands. "I waited, after you kicked me out of the ER, I still didn't want to leave until I was sure both of you were okay. And I guess, I was hoping you'd change your mind and let me see you again. So then the doctor told me that you were asking for me, and she talked to me about how the baby was doing and that she wanted to keep you there for a few days, that you were sick and you needed to rest." He doesn't dwell on the whys of her 'illness', because it doesn't matter now, not when he's sure she's still sober. "I went to your room and I watched you sleep, and you seemed so goddamn peaceful. Then I thought about all the shit that had gone down between us in the last few weeks and how...I felt like the best thing I could do was to stay away. Let you have some peace. That's why I wrote you that note, so you'd know it's not that I didn't care-"

"You didn't even write it to me!" Stevie's been trying very hard to hear him out like she said she would, but she can't keep quiet any longer. "You wrote it to Robin. You couldn't even talk to me on _paper_."

"What do you want me to say? That I'm a piece of shit? Because I'll say it, I am. I made a mistake. A lot of them. And I know you won't believe me when I tell you I love you, but I do."

She squeezes her eyes closed, shaking her head. "Lindsey. Don't."

"Don't what? Tell the truth?"

"You can't. You can't love me. Even if I thought you were being honest, which...I really don't know," she says, remembering when Robin had finally told her that he wasn't coming, how disappointed she was and how _stupid_ she felt for having been so sure that he wouldn't abandon her, "we're past that. We just have to figure out how we can get along for her sake, enough that we can both raise her and be civil about it."

He sits up straighter when he hears this, his back stiffening. "You make it sound like it's some sort of business transaction! This isn't like saying we have to be professional so we can finish an album, this is a human being we're talking about here."

"You think I don't know that, Lindsey?" They had _never_ been able to just 'be professional', so why would this be any different, especially when the stakes are so much higher? "What I'm saying is, we can't keep fighting the way we have. And when...feelings get involved, we fight."

"How is it that you can be so cold about this?" It's one thing for her to say to him _it's just sex, okay, don't make it into more than that_ , but this is something else entirely.

"I'm not!" she cries. "I'm just trying to do what's best for my baby."

"And you really think that this is it? Because to me, it sounds like you're not even _willing_ to try."

"Don't you dare tell _me_ about being willing to try when you have done _nothing_ for us since you found out!" she says, wiping her face with a rough backhand swipe. " _I'm_ the one who's been sick as a dog, alone in a strange place, worrying about her and how I'm going to do this - with or without you, because I am."

"Look, I'm saying right now that I was wrong. I know that this is my fault and you wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't for me-"

"Well, yeah, I didn't get knocked up on my own," and she has to admit that she's slightly impressed that he recognized this. It might be a low bar, but there are times when she wouldn't have put it past him to blame it all on her for tricking him into sticking his innocent dick inside her.

"And I don't want you to have to do the rest of it on your own, either. You deserve more than that and so does she. I wanna make this right."

"I'm not asking for your pity, and we don't need you to do what you think is the right thing so you can pat yourself on the back for doing the bare minimum for us," she says, her voice cutting.

"Good, because that's not what I'm talking about. All I want is for you to give me a chance. I'm not expecting you to forgive me for what's already happened but God, please, let me show you that I can do better."

"You're going to have to." The shitty thing is that she knew he _could_ do better - at one point. Now she's not sure. She wants to believe that the old Lindsey, the one she thought she knew, is still in there somewhere, but she's afraid that she's just lying to herself. "Because I mean it, I want her to have a relationship with you, but...I have to know that I can trust you first."

He turns from her, his head followed by the rest of his body, his hand raking through his hair. He wants to tell her that she's being unfair, that he has just as many reasons to distrust her as she has to distrust him, but he doesn't. Because even though he might be right about that - she's also not wrong. "I'm not going to hurt her. If that's what you're worried about. I swear to Christ that I'd never lay a hand on her."

"I...I believe you," she says. She hadn't expected him to say something like that because frankly, the thought had never occurred to her, and she'd thought about a _lot_ of things as of late. "But there's more to it than that."

"Are _you_ afraid of me?"

The silence lasts too long for his liking. "We should probably just focus on the baby right now."

"Stevie."

"I _said_ , I don't want to talk about it." At this point, she was just ready to forget that any of it ever happened. The bruises on her legs are fading, green and gold paint splatters across an otherwise blank canvas that will soon be relegated to a distant corner of her mind, just like the rest already is. Besides, that didn't scare her. Hurt, yes, annoy her, yes, but what was he really going to do in front of an amphitheater full of people? If she hadn't known she was pregnant, she probably would've kicked him right back. Hell, she was about to bust his jaw backstage before Robin pulled her off of him.

"I shouldn't have hit you that night we fought about Carol."

"Are you even listening to me? No." What's she supposed to say to that? She's realized now that the reason that encounter left her so rattled was that she must have subconsciously been worried about protecting her baby, even though she didn't know she was pregnant yet. Maternal intuition, that's what it was. Otherwise, what would it be? The only difference between that fight and any of the others they'd had over the years that had gotten physical was that he hit her first instead of just fending her off (even if at times he was fending her off with more force than was strictly necessary). So what right did she have to make a big deal out of _this_? Time to get over it.

He slumps back against the couch, hair sticking up in five different directions, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "Don't you get it? That's what I'm saying, that if I hadn't done any of that shit, things would've been different. If I would've paid attention, realized that you were sick -"

"How the hell do you think you would've when _I_ didn't even notice?" It's not like she wouldn't have done the same damn stuff even if he was around, just that she would've been getting high and having sex with him instead of somebody else. Maybe she would've eased up on the blow a little, because he always complains that she's a bitch when she does too much, but still.

"You did," he insists. "You knew something was off, you just didn't know what it was."

"And you would've? Since when did you go to medical school?" Sure, he used to watch a lot of General Hospital in the afternoons when they lived together, but that hardly qualified.

"No, but I'd have dragged you to the doctor's, even if I had to have them make a surprise housecall," he says, and she has to admit he's right about that, because she would've done the same for him if she was in his position. "I would've taken care of you. You'd have found out sooner that-"

He's unsure what's happening when she starts to cry again, her shoulders hunched over and her head bowed. "J-just stop, okay, just stop."

"Steph? What did...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"You don't understand," she insists vehemently. "I asked the doctor, could there be something wrong with the baby...she said maybe. There's no way to tell, at least not yet..."

"I know, babe."

Her head jerks upward and she frowns at him, confused. "You do? How?"

"I told you, I talked to that lady doctor that night in the hospital, remember?" He watches as her expression flickers from embarrassment to anger and back to confusion.

"But you're. I mean. You still. Are you...?" She pauses, her head tilted. "Is that the real reason why you left?"

"Jesus. No. I -"

"Because I understand. And you can be angry at me all you want, but God, please, just don't punish her for it. It's not fair to her." She's looking down at her lap again and he reaches out, wanting to touch her but hesitating, resting his open hand within her range of sight.

"I'm not angry, baby, I'm telling you the truth. The only reason I left was because I'm a selfish asshole and a coward," and he sees the corner of her mouth quirk up a millimeter, "but it has nothing to do with...that."

"I. I don't know."

"Look. I'm here, aren't I?" he asks gently. "She's my daughter. I'm gonna love her no matter what. And I'll prove it to you if you'll let me."

She brushes her fingertips over his, thinking. This wasn't something she had anticipated, and she's not sure how she should feel about it. It should be a good thing, she thinks, a relief to know that he's well aware of the reality of the situation and wants to be with them anyway. So why doesn't it feel like that? Does she just not know how to trust him anymore? She wants to, but... "I don't know."

"What don't you know?" he asks, grateful even for her non-answer. It's a start.

"What is it you want? Honestly."

"I want you to give me another chance. Or at least tell me you'll think about it, about us working things out," he says. He wishes she would look at him, take his hand, anything to tell him that he's getting through to her, but he doesn't push it. "I'm not asking for us to get back together today or anything like that. I know we both need time."

"Well, we have until October 21st to figure something out."

"October - that's your due date." She nods. "Just in time for Halloween, huh?"

She doesn't look up, but she smiles. "I'm gonna start sewing a little costume once I'm back in Phoenix."

"Are you going there tomorrow?"

"Yeah." She had flat-out rejected the doctor's suggestion of rehab or even counseling, because she didn't need it. But when her mother had mentioned that maybe it would be good for her to spend her month off at their place, she had agreed to the offer, deciding that California was too crowded and too lonely all at once right now.

He's relieved to hear this. Never in a million years did he think she'd go to any sort of treatment program, but he _was_ worried about what she'd do at home and (maybe more importantly) who she'd be with. "That sounds like a good idea. Do you think...could I come visit you for a bit while you're there?"

"Lindsey..." she says in a soft, warning voice. "What about Carol?"

"I'm breaking things off with her for good as soon as I get there. Unless she's already cleaned me out and left. Either way, it's over," he assures her.

Surprisingly to him, she seems ambivalent about this news. "I don't want...please don't just break up with her because you want us to get back together. Because if I can't do that..."

"I'm not, I promise. It's not a healthy relationship and if I'm going to be a better person - a good father- I need to get out of it. I realized that."

As much as Stevie's thrilled to hear she won't have to worry about that coke whore being around her kid, there's an unsettled feeling in her stomach when she thinks about Lindsey being single, then potentially dating someone else. She imagines dropping her daughter off at the place he shares with his new girlfriend, thinking about the two of them playing house for the weekend with a little girl who's _theirs_ , not this stranger's, and it has her seething inside. Still, she's got more pressing concerns than an imaginary stepmother. "But you're not going to tell her about the baby."

"Uh? I mean...I kinda was."

"No," she says with a firm shake of her head.

"Well, she already knows that we...what am I supposed to say if she asks why I'm dumping her?"

"Gee, that's not my problem. I guess you'll have to come up with something." He exhales like he's about to argue and she stops him. "Right now, nobody knows except the people who were there that night in Auckland and my parents, and I wanna keep it that way. If she finds out, with her big fucking mouth, the whole world'll know."

"She's not _that_ bad at-"

"Lindsey. I'm not debating this. If you say you want to be there for us...for once in my life, I'd like to have some goddamn privacy. I don't care what you tell her, just not that."

"Okay," he says. He wants to turn toward her, look at her straight on and not through his peripheral vision, but he's afraid of her becoming skittish now that they're finally getting somewhere. "Okay. She won't find out."

"Thank you." Does she feel bad forcing him to lie, or at least conceal the truth, from his soon to be ex? No. He's lied to Carol so many times as it is about much stupider things than this, and she'll do what she needs to in order to protect her baby. Maybe once she's born, once they're sure that she's healthy...

"Hey. Stevie, hey, what's wrong?" he asks when the tears start up once more. "I promise, you won't have to deal with her again."

"I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry," she repeats. He lifts up his arm in a silent offering and to his surprise she accepts, her head resting on his shoulder.

"What are you sorry for? You don't need to...I'm the one who should be apologizing. You haven't done anything wrong."

"I'm just. S-so worried about her," she admits, even as she's comforted by his hand idly rubbing her back.

"Hey, it's alright. Between you and me, I think everything's gonna be just fine. If they seriously thought there was something bad going to happen, they would've told you not to keep it," he says. Because that just makes sense, doesn't it? "And you're only what, two months along? That's not much at all. She's still got a lot of growing to do."

She nods, palm on her stomach. "Eleven weeks on Monday. But what if..."

"It doesn't matter. Whatever happens, I'll still be here and I'll still love her. And whatever she needs- surgery, therapy, some sorta special school- hell, we'll hire someone to work with her full time, just one on one. We're gonna give her the very best life we can and she's always gonna know how much we love her." She nods again, but her eyes are still so sad. He leans in closer, intending on kissing her head, and then thinks better of it and abruptly gets to his feet.

"Just a sec," he says before she can ask where he's going, taking something out of his leather carryon bag and holding it behind his back. He'd gone on a solo trip to the mall after his swim on the day before she arrived, finding himself suddenly attracted to all sorts of departments and displays that he'd hardly even noticed before, but still too wary to make any actual purchases in case she was going to tell him that his presence wouldn't be needed in this baby's life. He couldn't stop himself from making one exception, though. "I, uh, I got something for you, for the two of you. It's a panda, get it? Because of Japan..."

He's elated when she lets out a soft but joyful laugh, wiping her eyes again before hugging the fuzzy stuffed animal against her chest. "Linds, pandas are Chinese."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was dealing with a bear expert here," he teases as he sits back down. To his utter shock, she scoots over and climbs onto his lap without a word, the panda nestled between them. He hugs her close and she lets him, both of them wetting the other's face and neck with their tears. "Don't give up on me, Steph. Lemme go home and get my shit together, and then I'll come to Phoenix and bring you back with me."

"I don't know..."

"What don't you know, angel?"

_Anything. If you'll keep your word, if you can really change, if I even want to give us another try, if I'm doing the right thing for my baby, if I'll regret saying no, if I'll regret saying yes._ She had sworn to herself before that she wasn't going to do this, for her sake and for her daughter's. But she's never been good at saying no to him, she supposes, or else she wouldn't be here in the first place. And now he's with her and he's holding her like this, and she feels loved and cared for and supported in a way that she hasn't since that dream she had in the hospital where he kept her safe in the midst of the storm. Would it really be so bad to give him the second chance he's asking for, if there's still a possibility that it could lead to something amazing? "I don't know how much I can promise you."

"Just promise me you'll think on it. That's all I'm asking. Give me a few weeks to sort things out and then make your decision." He knows he's not good enough for her, for them, right now. But he can change that.

"A few weeks - to say goodbye to Carol?"

"No! I mean, yes, but not..." He takes a slow breath, trying to collect his thoughts. "I'm breaking up with her right away. She'll probably want to stay in the house until it sells, so I've gotta find somewhere to go, or at least someplace to store all my shit. And after that...I guess I'm not sure what's next."

Despite how angry she was, and still is, with him for how he left her in New Zealand, she recognizes that he needs some downtime- and honestly, she could probably use some too. She knows that he usually goes into seclusion for a week or two after a long tour to recuperate, which would give them both the time and space to figure out what the hell they want. "For now, you can keep your stuff at my place if you need to. You can even stay there, it's fine with me. And then if, when, you're really ready, I'll be waiting."

"I swear, baby, just a couple weeks," he says, almost breathless with relief. "I'm not going to let you down again. You have my word. And if anything happens before then, if something's wrong, I'll get in the car and drive straight out there."

She lifts her head up and mouths 'alright', then bites her lip as their eyes finally meet. His are still watery but he's smiling and he looks so hopeful, contagiously so, and _oh_ she hopes she's making the right choice. "Just come back, okay? Because we need you."

\-------------------------

He catches her standing alone at the catering table later that night, sipping on her 'wine' glass in between bites of pineapple. "Hey. Hungry?"

"Yeah, I didn't eat much before the show," she says, her smile soft but genuine. She had caught the scent of hot dogs in her dressing room, and even though Robin swore there were none to be found anywhere backstage, she spent an hour with her head in the toilet anyway. "But I'm better now." She picks up another pineapple chunk and pops it in her mouth. "God, next time you see me I'll probably be huge."

"Ha, I doubt that." He pours himself a drink and they touch glasses in a wordless toast. Stevie notices that his usual rum and Coke is all Coke tonight, and she realizes that she actually hasn't seen him with anything stronger than a beer (literally, _a_ beer) since she's been in Hawaii, but she doesn't say anything about it.

"I'm serious, the doctor says I need to start gaining at least a pound a week. I'm already half a pound heavier than when I left the hospital, if you can believe it."

He can, only because he's pretty sure it all went straight to her tits. And he's trying not to stare, since he doesn't think they're quite to that place in their relationship right now and he doesn't want to overstep the boundaries, but she's standing so close that they're practically touching his arm, and- "Are you...cold? You look cold."

"Um, a little bit, I guess," she says, rubbing her bare forearms, and without another word he's unbuttoning his shirt and handing it over to her.

"Here." He reaches for her crocheted shawl and fingers the fringe on the edge. "Trade you?"

She accepts with a smirk, draping the shawl around his shoulders before slipping on his flower-printed shirt. He wishes she'd button it up, preferably all the way to the collar, but it distracts from her cleavage well enough and he's just too happy to see her wearing his clothes in public to care about much else.

"Hey hey, the guest of honor's almost here!" they hear Mick shout. It was Richard's last night on tour, and they were determined to send him off in grand fashion. "Places, everyone!"

They separated then, but Lindsey kept a careful eye on her during the festivities, especially when the inevitable food fight broke out.

"Be careful," Lindsey warned, tugging on her (his) frosting-covered sleeve.

It earned him an eyeroll, but she didn't look mad. "Honey, it's _cake_. It's not going to hurt us."

As if to prove her point, she took a chunk of the pastry in question out of her hair and smeared it across his bare chest, giggling and hurrying away before he could caution her about running in those heels.

Later on in the evening, she finally managed to make her way over to the man of the hour. She'd only seen Richard in passing since she'd been in Hawaii, and she greeted him with a big bear hug.

"Hey mama," he said after checking to make sure that they wouldn't be overheard. "You hangin' in there?"

"I am. I just...what am I gonna do without you?" She had felt guilty when she heard that he was leaving and she was sure that Lindsey did too, wondering if wanting to escape their constant drama had played a factor in his decision.

"You'll be fine, and so will Linds." She looked at him questioningly. "He'll come around. I know it."

"I sure hope you're right."

And that's what she was holding onto- hope. She wanted to trust Lindsey, but she knew that she had to spend this coming time apart getting strong on her own, preparing for any eventuality. Her daughter was depending on her.

\-------------------------

A few hours later, she and Lindsey stood in the dark behind a limo waiting to take her to the airport, both hugging each other tightly.

"So you'll call me if anything happens, if you need anything," he said, and she sniffled in agreement. Cautiously, his hand lingered just above her stomach. "Is it okay if I..."

She accepted, expecting that he just wanted to touch her nonexistent bump, but she was surprised as he dropped to his knees on the pavement, face pressed against her belly. Laughing through her tears, she ruffled his hair.

"Hey there," she heard him say in a low voice, "you take care of your mom for me, okay? Don't give her too much trouble. I'll miss you, but I'll be back soon and then we'll start over, for good this time." She feels him kissing just above her belly button and then hears, in an even quieter voice, "Love you."

"I've gotta go, babe," she reminded him reluctantly as he got to his feet, knowing that if she hesitated any longer she was going to lose her resolve altogether. _We need this_ , she told herself yet again.

"I -" Now it's his turn to be surprised when she cradled his face in both her hands and kissed him soundly, her mouth enveloping his bottom lip and caressing it for a long moment before she pulled away with a light pop. They had cuddled together for a while yesterday after their talk, both of them even dozing off in each other's embrace, but that was as affectionate as she had been with him and he wasn't going to push for more. But now... "I love you, angel."

He didn't expect her to say it back, although he still felt the sting of disappointment when she just nodded several times and mouthed 'goodbye', face crumpling again as she turned to walk away.

"Hey," she called out as he watched her start to climb into the limo, then take a step backwards so she could see him once more. "We love you too." 


	36. those were the happiest days of my life (1997)

**_September 1997_ **

When it came to romantic gestures, Lindsey didn't have the best track record.

On Stevie's 21st birthday, he had the idea to leave single long-stemmed roses in various places she'd see through the day- on the windshield of her car, outside the door of her apartment, at their practice space, and so on. The only problem being, he was a little short on cash and couldn't ask his parents for a loan, because he had already done that the day before. Not wanting to endure the ribbing that would come with asking his brothers or friends for help, he was stuck.

Until he happened to look at the window and catch a glimpse of his crotchety old neighbor's prized rose bushes.

Hmm.

He thought he'd gotten away with it, sneaking next door under cover of darkness and cutting a few flowers from the lowest branches. And he almost did, until his neighbor spied Stevie walking up to his front door with her collected bouquet in hand.

They were making out on the living room couch, her in just her underwear and him with his pants around his ankles, when there was a knock on the door.

"Mmm. Baby. Maybe you should get that?"

"Nah," he said, unhooking her bra with a practiced snap of the wrist. "Probably just girl scouts selling cookies."

Another knock, this time louder and more urgent. "Uh, that doesn't sound like a girl scout."

Swearing under his breath, he pulled up his jeans and staggered over to the door, willing his hard-on to go away as he tried not to think about his nearly naked girlfriend in the next room.

Fortunately, or not, the sight of a surly cop on his front porch was an instant boner kill. "You Lindsey Buckingham?"

"Y-yes? I mean, yes officer, sir." What the hell was going on?

"We got a complaint from your neighbor, he thinks you may have vandalized his garden. Stole some roses. Do you happen to know anything about that?"

"Ah. I. Can't say I do? Sir. Officer," he babbled. Shit. His parents were going to kill him. At least he wouldn't die a virgin.

The policeman frowned, nodding toward the flowers that were clearly visible on top of the table in the foyer. "You sure?"

"Honey, is every-" Stevie wanders toward the doorway, hair mussed and the buttons on her blouse askew from her haste to get dressed. "Oh. Oh geez."

Maybe the officer himself had once been a gangly, slightly awkward teenager trying to impress a girl who was way out of his league, or maybe he just felt sorry for Lindsey. For whatever reason, he looked at the two of them and cleared his throat. "I'll go next door and tell him he must be mistaken. Have a nice day, you kids."

The truly amazing thing about that story is how it actually turned out better than another one of his grand attempts- namely, the first time he proposed to Stevie. After years of vaguely talking about marriage sometime in the future, once they had 'made it', he had decided that it was time to do something about it. They were just coming off of their first tour and newly flush with cash, so it was nothing to call up a florist and order five dozen roses. No need to steal this time. He ordered from her favorite expensive restaurant (he didn't want to go out; he wanted privacy and she would inevitably run into a friend he's never met), lit enough candles to set the place alight, and put a bottle of top shelf champagne on ice.

She said no.

She said he wasn't doing it out of love, he was doing it out of desperation and it wasn't going to fix the things that were already broken. How do you explain that you can be in love _and_ desperate at the same damn time?

In retrospect, she was probably right. They were estranged as much as they were together in those days, and she had already all but told him that theirs was now an open relationship (he knew she was fucking someone else, a married guy she'd met on the road, and he also knew there were probably others he'd yet to catch her in the act with. He wasn't liking the way Don Henley looked at her, that's for damn sure). But he couldn't help but think that if she would only try a little harder...

Fast forward twenty years, and here he is thinking marriage once again. He may be confident that she'll say yes, but he's still a little gun-shy about the idea of another 'traditional' proposal, especially when the only time he'd been successful in the past was when he impulsively rolled over in bed and said 'marry me?' So he figures that the ideal way to ask this time is somewhere between the two extremes. Now it's just a matter of timing.

His mother went straight for it as soon as Stevie had gone to take the dogs out when they called to give her the news. "I really hope you're planning on getting married."

"We are, Ma. I mean, we haven't specifically talked about it, but she already asked me to move in with her and her brother's family once the tour is over, so...she knows I'm not going anywhere. It's not like before, because we actually planned this one, kinda."

"But there's still a difference between living together, even with a baby, and being married," Ruth insisted. "And even if she hasn't said anything, I guarantee she's been thinking about it. Once there's a child involved...you want that security. "

"I know. I've just gotta find the right time."

Jeff was more direct. "You gonna ask her to marry you?"

"Yup. Soon."

"Atta boy, tiger," he said in that obnoxious, _we may be middle aged adults but I'm still going to treat you like my kid brother_ voice.

In any case, the proposal was going to have to wait until he got the ring resized. He was adamant about using the same one that she'd worn before, but a quick comparison with her other jewelry while she was in the shower confirmed that it wasn't going to fit, especially if her fingers kept swelling like she was already complaining that they were.

He paid a surprise visit to Karen when Stevie was with her voice coach. "Hey. I need a favor from you."

"Well, well, well," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. "And what would that be?"

"I need you to come up with something for Stevie to do on Sunday so I can run an errand without her noticing. I don't care what it is, just anything to keep her busy for the day."

"An errand," she repeated, and he should've figured that she wouldn't go along with him that easily.

"It's not...whatever you're thinking," he said, because he wasn't sure what she was thinking, but he knew it couldn't be good. "I'm driving down to New York to, er, do some shopping."

"For Stevie? Or the baby? Because if you buy a bunch of stuff for the baby without her-"

"No, God no, I wouldn't." He's well aware that he has made his contribution, at least for the time being, and Stevie will take care of the rest; that it's not his place to decide what his child will wear or what its room will look like or what stroller it'll be carted around in. "It's for her."

Karen nodded like she wanted him to continue, and if she expected him to seek her blessing before he proposed, she is out of her mind. "So what are you getting her?"

"Jewelry."

"A bold move," she said, as if he wasn't nervous enough already. "Fine, I'll take care of it."

\-------------------------

"I'm beginning to think you have some kind of weird fetish for this," Stevie says, sitting back on her heels on the tile floor.

"For what, watching you throw up?" He shakes his head, palm lying flat between her shoulder blades as she readjusts the messy bun she's got her hair pulled into. "I can't say I do."

"Yet you're always here..."

"I just- I feel bad, watching you suffer through all this." He turns on the faucet, filling up the plastic cup that sits beside the sink for these occasions. "It's the least I can do to help, y'know? And since I wasn't really around for this before-" It's not that he'd planned it that way, but by the time they'd worked things out during her last pregnancy, she'd already moved past the worst of the morning sickness. "Unless I'm making things worse for you, I mean?"

"No, it...it's nice, I guess. I'm glad you're here." She was left to deal with it all alone during her past pregnancies, the fathers either not knowing or not caring, so yet again this was new territory. And although they'd had many arguments in the past about Lindsey's sometimes overbearing nature, in this case she didn't much mind. It was good to feel taken care of- _like a princess_ , as she described it when her brother asked how he was treating her.

"Good." He helps her to her feet even after she shakes her head in amusement at his eagerness, kissing her temple. "Think you can eat something? I got your yogurts -"

"Oh God, don't even say that word. Dairy sounds awful right now. But maybe some toast? With peanut butter?" she adds hopefully.

"Coming right up," he says as he heads into the kitchenette in their suite.

"Christ, how did we used to do this every morning, waking up hungover as fuck?"

"Well, for one, you were never awake in the morning," he points out, to which she rolls her eyes.

"And I wouldn't be awake now if the girls weren't insisting that we leave at dawn." Sharon and Karen had told her that they wanted to take her on a day trip to the coast to celebrate her good news on their last free Saturday before the tour began, which was great, but she didn't understand why they were so adamant about getting an early start. "So what are you gonna do while I'm away?"

"Eh, who knows. Mick was talking about maybe going golfing."

In reality, he jumped into the rental car as soon as he saw Stevie off and didn't stop until he got to the city. Karen hadn't been kidding when she called it a bold move. Stevie had definite tastes in jewelry, and so other than the crescent moon necklace he got her before he went on tour with the Everly Brothers and the engagement ring that eventually got returned to him, he had never been brave enough to give her any. But he wanted something special to mark these two new beginnings, a new tour and a new baby, something that could serve as a sort of placeholder until it was time to pop the big question.

(And hell, anything had to be better than the necklace Mick got her at the end of the Rumours tour, which originally intended to be an apology present for Jenny. But when she rejected it, he re-gifted it as an apology present to Stevie, who loved it. He could _definitely_ do better than that.)

After hours of searching, he found what he _thinks_ he was looking for- two identical antique diamond and white gold cuff bracelets. They seemed completely ostentatious to him, which was a good sign, and the jeweler told him that they had originally been a gift from some rich Belgian jeweler to his wife when she had twins over 85 years ago. He had his doubts about whether that was true or just bullshit that the guy was telling him to make the sale, but nevertheless it worked. Stevie would appreciate that story, he knew.

He managed to make it back to the hotel less than ten minutes before Stevie did, full of gossip about her day and none the wiser about his trip. Wanting to make sure she didn't come upon her gift before it was time, and knowing that there was no place in their room that would be completely safe from her snooping, he waited until she was asleep and then took it down to Karen.

"Wow," she said, touching one of the diamond 'flowers' on the bracelet, "okay. I'm impressed. But these obviously weren't cheap. Aren't you worried that now the engagement ring won't measure up?"

"Who said anything about an engagement?" he asked, trying to play it cool.

"You're telling me that you're not going to -"

"The ring's being resized right now. It's an old family heirloom," he explained. "I mean, it's not as...extravagant as these, but it has sentimental value."

"It's the same one she had before?" He guessed that he shouldn't be shocked that she knows the story, but he's a little surprised that Stevie even remembered that she'd returned the ring at all, given the state she was in at the time.

"Yeah, that one. I thought about buying something else...but this just feels right. Anyway, not a word of any of this to Stevie."

She just nodded tiredly, but he couldn't help but think that she approved. And if he could win Karen over, surely it wouldn't be hard to do the same with Stevie?

\-------------------------

Opening night was upon them, and it was coming up on time for the cars to arrive to take them to the venue. He had popped downstairs to Karen's room while Stevie was on the phone with Lori, figuring that she wouldn't notice that he was gone. And apparently she didn't, because when he returned, she was still propped up on her pillows in bed as they chatted about her nails and whether nail polish fumes would be bad for the baby.

Lori had been perhaps more excited than anyone when she heard that she was going to be an aunt, she and Stevie speaking to each other in that crying/shrieking babble that only women understand while Lindsey stood mutely by when they called to make the big announcement to her and Chris. "I dunno, I just don't want to risk it. I'm going to have to have bare nails, or maybe those tacky stick-on ones...oh, Lor, I gotta go, Lindsey's here. But I'll call you tomorrow!" She hangs up the phone and frowns. "You okay, babe? You look worried. Just nerves?"

"Uh, yeah, that," he says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He had to get through this, and then he could begin feeling nervous about the show. When he sits down on the bed next to her, Stevie finally notices the wrapped box in his hands. "I. Um. I love you."

"I love you too," she says, curious about why he seemed so hesitant.

"And, well. I got you something."

She grins in anticipation, excitedly pulling off the wrapping. When she opens the box, her eyes widen and she lets out a low gasp. "Jesus..."

"There's two for a reason. The first one is for the last 30 years and everything we've been through since then," he explains, "and the second is for the next 30 years and everything we have to look forward to. And then after that, in 2027," he adds with a chuckle, "I guess I'll have to have another one made."

"They're gorgeous," she murmurs, tilting her neck to kiss him before she inevitably starts crying. They were definitely going to have a special place in her antique collection; something she could see herself passing on to her daughter, if this baby was a girl, or maybe a future daughter in law.

He tells her what the jeweler said about them, and she of course imagined herself wearing them in 1910, along with an evening gown and a fur wrap for a performance at some European opera house. "I love them, but...when did you have time to do this?"

"Heh. Remember that day you went down to the beach with the girls?"

"I _knew_ you were up to something!" She had found it suspicious how Lindsey was suddenly so eager for her to go when he had barely let her out of his sight since she told him she was pregnant. She had wondered if he was going shopping- although she certainly wasn't expecting anything like this - but she had searched every potential hiding place in their suite and came up with nothing. "Where did you put it?"

"In Karen's safe," he says a bit sheepishly. "She was in on it too."

The two of them conspiring together? Now _that_ was big.

\-------------------------

And thus began the first month of the tour. For Stevie, those three and a half weeks seemed like something out of a dream.

Despite the nausea and the tiredness and the random intense, very specific cravings (like being unable to sleep until she got sausage links dipped in maple syrup), she felt like this pregnancy had thus far been much easier and more enjoyable than the last. Part of it probably had to do with being older and wiser and sober, but there was more to it than that.

For one, she knew where she stood with Lindsey right from the start. He had been unreservedly thrilled and so protective, and he kept talking about how he couldn't wait until they could start telling everyone. Right now it was on a need to know basis; otherwise she wouldn't have put it past him to tell total strangers that they had a baby on the way. He was constantly checking to make sure that she felt okay and took care of her when she didn't, and he told her multiple times a day how happy he was that he was going to be a dad (again) and how excited he was to meet this little guy or girl.

She wondered sometimes if it was his way of assuaging the guilt he still felt over everything that had happened last time. Maybe it was, or maybe - like her- he had just learned not to take anything for granted. She knew that he worried about the future, the same way that she did, but they were both trying to enjoy every day as much as they could. Although there wasn't much enjoyment to be found in vomiting or heartburn or having to pee every fifteen minutes, there was so much that made up for it. She loved just lying in bed with him, having him rub her stomach (which, thankfully, hadn't expanded enough to be noticeable) and talking to, and about, their baby.

On top of that, the shows had been solid since opening night, with each performance better than the ones before. There had been a lot of media buzz leading up to the tour and the album sales had been even bigger than expected, but they still weren't totally prepared for how enthusiastic the crowds would be. She was blown away every night by how much love was radiating from the fans and how excited they were, even with the rain clouds that seemed to follow them from venue to venue, and it always gave her the extra boost of energy that she needed. She would nap in the early evening for as long as possible and then hurry to get ready, which meant that they always started a little late, but since when had she _ever_ been on time? At least now she had a good reason. By then the adrenaline would kick in and she'd have the stamina to make it through the set without needing a rest break- although she did usually have to run to the bathroom during one of her costume changes.

The audiences weren't the only ones enjoying themselves. She and Lindsey had been unsure about how the rest of the band would react to hearing that she was pregnant, not wanting to create any tension when everyone had been getting along so well, but they wanted to give everyone plenty of advance notice about their future plans. The others were shocked; definitely not expecting that sort of announcement. They understood how much the two of them wanted this, though, having seen firsthand how the emotional scars from their previous loss had never fully gone away. Mick seemed a little reserved, undoubtedly thinking about the world tour and new album he'd already planned in his head, but he relaxed once they promised him that their hiatus would be temporary and neither of them intended to leave the group for good. And now that they all knew this tour would have a short run, it gave them an extra incentive to make each night count and enjoy playing together with everyone at the top of their game _and_ getting along.

Or more than getting along, in her and Lindsey's case. They had been flirting shamelessly on stage, stolen looks and big smiles and quick kisses and long embraces, which the crowd absolutely ate up. Little did they know! But beyond having fun and riling up the fans, it was an excellent aphrodisiac. Which, quite frankly, was fortunate for Lindsey. She remembered how she had been horny as hell for pretty much all of her last pregnancy and assumed it'd be the same this time around, but it was the exact opposite for the first two weeks after they returned from California. Rehearsing all day meant she was exhausted by the time they got back to the hotel, and the heartburn and headache pain were enough to pretty much kill any interest she might've had in having sex even if she didn't feel horribly bloated and unsexy (which she did). Lindsey had been understanding and never complained about not being able to get past first base, but she _knew_ he was happy on opening night when he went to her dressing room to check on her after the show and she pounced on him before he could even close the door.

"The limo's been waiting for 20 minu- Jesus, Steph."

"Don't you rip those, I've only got a couple comfortable pairs left," she warned him as he nearly tore her panties in half in his hurry to get them off, guiding her backward to the couch in the corner of the room. She sat back and yanked the hem of her skirt up around her thighs, pulling her legs to her chest as he dropped to his knees on the floor in front of her.

"Fuck if I care, I'll buy you a dozen more." He let out a low growl when he saw how she was already almost dripping. "You want my mouth, baby? My tongue licking your pussy?"

"Christ, yes." He had her spread open with his thumbs, the combination of the cool room air and his hot breath on her sensitive inner lips making her clit throb with need.

"Taste how good this is," he said, sticking two of his wet fingers into her mouth for her to suck on. "Fuck, yeah, that's what I want. Want you to come all over my face."

She pushed his head down and could barely bite back a scream when his tongue first made contact with her clit, holding him in place between her thighs as her head lolled against the couch and her body arched toward his mouth. "Oh shit, that's good, that's so good. Fuck me, Linds."

The limo was going to have to wait a little bit longer.

\-------------------------

On his birthday, the band and crew and assorted others took over the hotel bar for a celebration after the show. She sat at his side with the two of them hand in hand as she pretended to sip from her champagne glass; John having selflessly volunteered to drink it when no one was looking so as not to arouse suspicion from those who didn't know about the baby. The karaoke machine got more and more use as the partygoers got more and more wasted, and after John sang half a line of Danny Boy before saying 'fuck it' and walking away, Stevie decided to give it a go herself.

_at last, my love has come along..._

For some reason, it felt more nerve-wracking than getting up in front of thousands of people the way that she did every night, but seeing the look on Lindsey's face made up for the momentary stage fright. By the end of the song, she could tell that he was near tears and she was worried that he'd be upset with her for making him so emotional in public. Fortunately, John saved the day once again.

"Th'was beautiful," he proclaimed loudly, clapping his hands together with enthusiasm before wiping at his face with a cocktail napkin.

But Lindsey's real present came a few days later. Stevie's OB had arranged for her to see a colleague in Minneapolis, saving her from having to fly out to California again for another checkup, and it was there that they got to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time. Lindsey had the idea to bring a tape recorder and the doctor humored them, letting them record what they jokingly called baby Buckingham's debut single. The sound quality might've left something to be desired, but it still got plenty of airplay, with the proud parents showing it off to anyone who would listen, including the dogs. (They were unimpressed).

The two of them had gotten into the habit of having a mini-celebration every Sunday to mark being one week closer to meeting their little one. And the Sunday after Lindsey's birthday weekend, October 12th, was an especially big day because it meant she was now officially past the 12 week mark. Everyone from her mother to her doctor had told her that once you were past 12 weeks, you were unlikely to miscarry. She knew firsthand that making it that far was no guarantee that something wouldn't go wrong, but in a few weeks they'd be able to do more tests to rule out potential problems, _and_ they'd finally learn whether they were having a boy or girl so that they could pick out a name.

(They promised each other that they wouldn't start thinking about names until they knew the gender, but Stevie already had her top two choices in mind: Charlotte for a girl or Gavin for a boy.)

So even though this particular Sunday was a momentous one, they barely acknowledged it when the clock struck midnight. Lindsey had come down with something the day before, his voice almost giving out completely mid-show, and so Stevie was eager to dose him up with Nyquil and put him to bed to get some rest. He wasn't the only one who was worn out, and they'd be getting an early wake up call the next morning for their short flight to Canada.

"Happy twelfth," he said tiredly as she switched off the lamp. He wouldn't let her kiss him on the mouth, hoping to prevent her from getting whatever he had, so she settled for a kiss on the forehead. "Love you, both of you."

"We love you too...and goodnight, my babies," she called to the dogs at the foot of the bed.

Lindsey groaned when she elbows him from behind, his arm slung over her belly. "Yeah, goodnight, you guys."

\-------------------------

_She's standing in the ocean, the waist-high water warm and blue as the waves roll gently past her. She's holding an infant in her arms, a little boy with a mess of curly blond hair wearing a gray and navy striped onesie, and he laughs as she dips his tiny legs and toes under the surface._

_She looks up at the sky, streaks of orange and pink splashed across the horizon as the sun sets. Then she turns toward the shore and spots Lindsey standing in the sand, waving his arms at her, and she waves back and beckons for him to join them, but he shakes his head and shouts something that she can't understand._

"Stevie! Fuck, Stevie, c'mon. Wake up!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{to be continued...back to 1980 next time. Is Lindsey going to keep his promises?}}


	37. seven candles in my window lighting your way (1980)

**_April 1980_ **

Stevie woke up to the familiar sensation of a full bladder and groaned, looking over at the bedside clock to see that she'd been asleep for four hours. Not nearly long enough.

She went down the hall of her parents' house to the bathroom and took care of business, then made a face at her reflection in the mirror. She had gone straight to the guest bedroom and collapsed on top of the covers when she arrived, not bothering to take off her makeup or even change out of the clothes she'd worn for the flight home from Hawaii. It was mostly out of exhaustion, but also because she could still faintly smell Lindsey on them- and that was all she had of him, at least for now.

That and the little girl growing inside her, of course. She was splashing cold water on her face when she heard a tap on the door. "Teedee? Everything alright?"

"Yeah, momma, I'm fine." She opens the door and frowns apologetically. "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."

"No, I was awake already. I had a feeling you'd be getting up soon. Do you want me to make you something to eat? We have leftovers in the fridge." She'd had dinner waiting on the table when Stevie and her dad got back from the airport, but Stevie had just hugged her and said she was too tired for food, much to her concern.

She knew she should eat, both for the baby and to appease her mother, but her stomach was still recovering from the flight and the idea of a full meal made her wish she had one of those airsickness bags handy. "It's okay, I'll make myself a sandwich or something."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Come downstairs when you're ready."

She goes back to the guest room and changes into her nightgown, pausing when she's stripped down to only her underwear to examine her side profile in the full length mirror. Her stomach doesn't stick out yet. Her boobs are definitely bigger- none of her bras fit her anymore - but that just makes it seem like she got another set of implants, not like she's pregnant. She wonders if that will change by the time she sees Lindsey again, if he'll be able to notice a difference.

Looking at the clock again and doing the math in her head, she decides that he must be in LA by now. Did Carol pick him up at the airport? Was she waiting for him at home? Has he broken up with her already? Have they...

She shakes her head to keep the tears from coming. He was going to keep his promises; she had to believe what he said when he told her that she and their baby were what mattered most to him now. He loved them and he was going to prove it.

Downstairs, her mom's waiting at the kitchen table with a peanut butter sandwich. "And there's more if you're still hungry after this."

"Thanks, Mom. How did you know this was what I wanted? I haven't had peanut butter in months."

"Just a feeling. I pretty much lived on the stuff when I was pregnant with you," she says, and they trade smiles. "So how was the flight?"

"Uh, I threw up. A lot. I got up to pee a lot. I think everyone else hated me."

"Oh, I'm sure they understood. The women, at least," she adds, and for the first time Stevie is struck by the realization that other people might be aware that she's pregnant, with or without a bump. If _she_ had been watching herself on the plane, she would've assumed she was a hungover woman who had managed to sneak a little something onto the plane and was going to the bathroom to indulge.

"Everything's going to be so different now, isn't it?"

Her mother reaches out for her hand and pats it in encouragement. "It is. But I believe in you. Every woman doubts themselves at some point, and yet things have a way of working out. Doesn't mean it'll be easy, but it's not impossible."

"Linds told me he's breaking up with Carol Ann. He said he was going to go back home and take care of that and some other stuff, and then he wants to give us another try," she says, not yet having been able to fill her mom in on what she and Lindsey had talked about in Hawaii. "I told him I'd give him a chance...but I'm just not sure."

"It's the right thing, honey. He deserves to be a part of his baby's life- and she deserves to have her parents giving it a try at being together."

Stevie shakes her head. "That's not what I mean. I said to him, I promise I won't shut you out, but what if I'm getting my hopes up for nothing? He already let us down once, he couldn't be there for me when I was in the hospital and I needed him, so who's to say it won't happen again? I told him I'd give him _a_ chance, but that's not an unlimited supply."

"And if it _does_ come to that, I know you'll be okay. Both you and the baby," Barbara says. Noticing her daughter's surprise, she adds, "It's always better to have an intact family, but sometimes it just doesn't happen like that. I raised you to be strong and to be able to take care of yourself, no matter what comes your way, and this is no exception. You have lots of people who love you and want to help, so you won't be alone. You'll figure it out."

\-------------------------

She tried to have as much faith in herself as her mother did.

Both of her parents were doting on her, the way they always had, but her mom especially so. They went shopping for new clothes- ugly bras that went out of style 20 years ago but actually fit, new shoes because her mother said her feet would be swelling soon, and pants and skirts with stretchy waists that she could wear over long shirts once she started to show. Her stage outfits would be altered by letting the seams out, and that along with the magic of layers would hopefully last her until she just plain got too big to perform.

Once she passed twelve weeks, her mom told her that it was okay to start shopping for baby things. Barbara convinced her to hold off on buying anything gender specific until after the doctor confirmed that she was having a girl, which she thought was unnecessary, but there were plenty of things to buy while she waited. They went through the garage and the attic and found some old clothes and toys from when she and Chris were young. Many of the toys seemed wildly unsafe for infants, all lead paint and sharp corners and small breakable pieces, but a wooden cradle with blue flowers on the sides caught her eye.

"Do you remember that? I painted the flowers myself while I was pregnant with you. Both you kids slept in it when you were too small for a crib. We put it on the floor in our bedroom so you'd be close by when you cried at night."

"I want it," she decides quickly, opening another box to look for the bedding. It still felt strange to think about stuff like that, like getting up in the night to make a bottle for a crying baby, not knowing if it would be just the two of them in that bedroom.

But despite the not-knowing, she's still making plans. She decides she'll give birth in LA, where she'll be closer to Lindsey and have access to better doctors if something goes wrong. Once she and the baby are out of the hospital and both in good shape, they'll go back to Phoenix. This is where she wants to raise her, with her parents and other relatives nearby and a quieter lifestyle than she'd have in California. She spends a sleepless night sketching out her ideal house, which has space for a grand piano and is all spread out on one level in case there's something wrong with her daughter's legs, and then the next day she's on the phone to some architects her dad knows, asking how soon they could have it built.

There's other plans to be made as well. Two days after she arrived home, she decided that she couldn't put off calling Jimmy any longer. She hadn't spoken to him since she was somewhere in Australia - what city, she couldn't recall. Hell, she didn't even remember what they talked about, and she probably would have _no_ memory of it at all if it wasn't for her distinctly remembering fighting with the operator who couldn't understand her slurred American accent.

He didn't seem happy to hear from her, more like he'd resigned himself to expecting bad news, but she was pretty sure that this particular news wasn't what he was anticipating. Once she's assured him that it's Lindsey's, there's a pause in the other end of the line. "And so you're keeping it?"

"Christ, Jimmy, what the hell kind of question is that? Of course I'm keeping it."

"I didn't mean it like- the last time we talked, you hated him and never wanted to see him again and he was marrying that bimbo Carol," he said, and technically that's all true.

"Look, a lot has changed since then."

"Clearly," he huffed, and she wondered if she should remind him that she purposely never promised him anything. "Shoulda known. It was obvious you weren't over him."

"I was...never mind," she said, deciding not to argue. "But this is something I've wanted for a long time, a baby- I haven't even had anything stronger than a cup of coffee since I found out. I'm trying to turn things around." If nothing else, he could appreciate that. "So can you please be happy for me? As a friend?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm happy for you," he grunted with probably all of the sincerity that he could muster, and she decided to change the subject to a demo of a new song that she wanted to send him. "And you think you're gonna make an album with a baby on your hip?"

"Uh, yes? Maybe not the day that I leave the hospital, but once she's a few months old, why wouldn't I?"

"Because no one's gonna take you seriously like that!" he scoffed.

"So I should do- what? Sit around at home until she goes to college? It's 1980. Women are...y'know, you're being sexist. I guarantee you, not one single person is going to be asking Lindsey those kind of questions, even though it's his kid too," she spit back. Lindsey, who had promised her years ago, the last time she found herself in this position, that he would help her do whatever it was that she wanted career-wise even with a baby. "This conversation is over. You can call me back when you're done being a dick. I'll be in Phoenix for another week or so."

That week had passed, and he hadn't called. Neither had Lindsey. Back in Hawaii, she had told him not to phone her just to talk, that she didn't want to get her hopes up every time he rang. ' _If something happens, I'll let you know. If you've got a message for me, tell Richard or someone and they'll pass it on. When you've done what you need to and you're really ready, then call me.'_

Most of the time, she stayed hopeful by staying busy. She got up early with her dad to drink coffee and watch the sunrise, and then after breakfast she'd have a mid-morning nap. Her mom insisted on dragging her along on errands and to brunches with her friends, some of whom hadn't seen Stevie since she was a toddler and didn't seem to know what to make of her as a fully grown adult. She spent a few evenings with her extended family and went for a swim every afternoon and worked on her songs and her sewing and sketches of a mural she wanted to paint on the walls of the baby's room.

Her parents were still the early to bed, early to rise kind of people who turned in after the nine o'clock news, and so after that she was on her own. She'd turn off the lamp in her room and light candles and play Buckingham Nicks and a few other demo tapes of Lindsey's that she had with her, because she wanted... _wanted the baby_ to hear the sound of his voice. Maybe she couldn't even hear yet, she wasn't sure, but she remembers the doctor in New Zealand telling her that if she was happy and relaxed, then the baby would feel the same way. So there's that.

And maybe over the sound of the music, her daughter wouldn't be able to hear her cry.

\-------------------------

Meanwhile, Lindsey was busy too.

He didn't waste time- the minute that he walked through the door of his (soon to be former) house, he was dumping the contents of his suitcases onto the floor of his bedroom and stuffing them full of clean clothes and things he didn't want Carol Ann to get her grubby little hands on.

"Um, _hello_ ," she called out when she walked in from the back patio, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Leaving."

"But you just got...I don't understand," she said with an exaggerated pout, her pupils twin black moons.

"There's nothing _to_ understand! The last time we talked, you said it was either you or the band, and then you hung up on me," he replied from the closet, where he was collecting his hidden stash of pot. He was trying to quit, or at least cut back for Stevie's sake, but he sure as hell wasn't gifting it to Carol. "So, I made my choice."

She sputtered that she was just angry, she didn't really mean it, and fuck, he knew that. Like she'd ever really leave unless he cut up his credit cards. But it was a convenient time to call her bluff, so he ignored her tears and gathered up a few of his guitars, locking the rest up in a room she doesn't have a key for. "Is it Stevie? You're going back to her?"

"Dunno," he said with a shrug, and he actually wasn't lying.

"Yes, you do! That fucking whore-"

"Hey. Watch your goddamn mouth," he warned.

But she wasn't finished. "At least now I know why you could never get it up unless you were high...all this time I was thinking it was just whiskey dick, now I know that it's just because you're fucking pathetic and _whipped_ by some slut who's in the room next door letting strangers take turns on her -"

"Just shut the fuck up, Carol!" he shouted, tightening his hold on his luggage. Normally he would've slapped her by then, pushed her to the floor or shoved her head into the wall. But he didn't. He didn't even threaten to. Because when he thought about it, he saw Stevie's big scared eyes as she forced herself to look up at him. He's going to be a father soon, going to have a daughter of his own, and he has to be better than that.

So he walked away. Unsure what else to do because he hadn't really thought it through yet, he ended up at Stevie's and let himself in, punching in the alarm code before it could start chirping at him.

"Hey, who the hell are you?" a tall stranger asked, arms crossed over his chest.

How many guys had she given a key to? "Who the hell are _you_?"

"How'd you get in here?" the man barked, and if Stevie had yet _another_ boyfriend that he didn't know about...

He held up his key, but the guy seemed unconvinced. "Look, if I was breaking in, the alarm would be going off, you-"

"Larry?" he heard a familiar voice say, and then Sharon appeared. "Oh. It's you."

"You know him, baby?" And _oh_. Relief.

"Yeah, honey, he's Stevie's...Lindsey." Sharon regarded him as if he was a half-step up from the average cockroach, which is still better treatment than he would've gotten if it had been Robin in Sharon's place. "What are you doing here?"

"Stevie, uh, she told me I could store some stuff," he said, leaving out the part where he had kinda been hoping to crash there for a few days. He didn't think Sharon and her new wannabe bouncer boyfriend wanted him around, and the feeling was mutual.

He got in his car and drove aimlessly up the coast for several hours, enjoying the unusual feeling of guiltless freedom, of not being beholden to anyone. When he saw the lighted sign of a motel within view of the beach and decided that it looked quiet and clean, if not luxurious, he checked in.

He planned on being there for a night or two and ended up staying over a week. He barely talked to anyone, other than calling Richard every couple of days to make sure he hadn't heard from Stevie. Instead, he worked on some new songs and went for long walks and took a lot of Polaroids that he planned on assembling into a collage for the future nursery. He kept a running list of baby names, scribbled down on a legal pad as they came to him, even though he figured Stevie already had something picked out. He read Dr. Spock's book to start learning about babies and underlined the first sentences: _Trust yourself. You know more than you think you do._ His next read was a book about childbirth, complete with diagrams and photos, and he wondered if Stevie really knew what she was getting into. If not, he wasn't going to be the one to tell her.

He called Greg and asked if he could come visit for a while, and then he checked out of the hotel and headed north. His mother was surprised when he showed up at the door unannounced; maybe even more surprised than when he told her that he's going to be a father and that no, it's not Carol Ann's. Every one of his family members seemed to breathe easier when he got to that part.

Greg and his wife have a little girl, Cory, who's a week away from her first birthday. The last time he saw her she was truly an infant, lying on the floor with her hand jammed into her toothless mouth, and now she's a toddler who staggers through the house like a miniature drunk and babbles to anyone who will listen.

He wants to learn, so he follows the three of them around and tries to absorb every interaction because really, they seem like they've got this family thing down. Cory throws a tantrum when her parents try to put shoes on her and the adults bicker about small things, but all in all it's incredibly harmonious and it reminds him of his own childhood.

"I don't think there _is_ a secret," Greg says when he asks him one night. "Nobody's born knowing how to be a parent or a husband, I know it's cliche but that's the truth."

"But there has to be something you can tell me, I mean..."

Greg considers this. "Best advice I can give you is that you can't always have things the way you want, or the way you think they should be -"

"I _know_ that," he says with a scowl, and Greg gives him a look that says _do you really?_

"And I know you. All three of us, it's been our way or the highway since we were born. I dunno how Mom and Dad put up with us all those years. But you've got to accept that you'll fuck up sometimes, and you'll have to compromise sometimes, and that doesn't mean that you've failed and should blow it all up and walk away."

"Yeah, okay," Lindsey says, because it makes sense. Kinda.

He wraps a shitload of presents for Cory to tear open on her birthday, and then he spends an afternoon assembling her new toys while she plays with the boxes. He holds his breath when she takes her first steps into her new playhouse, hoping it won't collapse on top of her, and then takes photo after photo when she sits in her high chair and smears chocolate frosting all over her face.

"I think it's time for you to head home now," Greg tells him that night, and yeah, okay.

He makes one last stop before he leaves town to see the only family member who hasn't heard the news yet. Lying on the cemetery lawn next to his father's headstone, he thinks about what his dad would say to him if he could. Probably tell him to pull his head out of his ass and go do the right thing. And maybe Greg was right about him not wanting to deal with anything that doesn't conform to his expectations of How It Should Be, even when, or especially when, that 'anything' is himself.

But he can change. He's already started. Now it's time to man up and go home, to take care of Stevie and their baby the way his dad would've expected him to even in a less than ideal situation. He thinks he's ready. He can feel that he's a different person than he was when he left Hawaii. And now the only thing holding him back is his own fear that he won't be able to live up to those promises he made after all. But he can't let that fear win, but Stevie's counting on him. He just hopes she hasn't already given up.

Before he leaves, he tells his dad that next time he comes back, he'll bring his daughter with him.

\-------------------------

Stevie was 13 weeks along and it was time for a doctor's appointment. Just out of curiosity, she called Richard and asked if Lindsey was around.

"Not that I know of. Last I heard, he was up visiting his family and said he'd call when he got back. But if you want me to -"

"It's okay, I'm glad he's up there with them. He doesn't need to come down just for this...but I'll let you know what the doctor says, and maybe you could call and tell him?"

She and her mom decided to drive to LA instead of flying. A plane would get them there faster, but it wouldn't pull over when she needed a bathroom break or wanted to get out and walk around. Also, no turbulence.

Her mother waited in the reception area while she was with the doctor, even though she was apprehensive about going in by herself, because she didn't want her mom to hear the full litany of things she did while she didn't know she was pregnant. "But I'm off all that shit now," she assured her OB. "I quit the second I found out and that was it, didn't need counseling or anything."

And it's true, even if she found herself occasionally shaking and her heart racing for no real reason at all, or if she woke up at night furiously scratching to try and quell the feeling of something crawling all over her skin. It could all be chalked up to pregnancy, she assumed, and it would go away eventually. At some point she'd stop craving a goddamn Valium- hell, even a pain pill- so badly that she screamed into her pillow to muffle the sound for the benefit of her sleeping parents. Who would've thought it'd be the downers that she missed more than the uppers?

But for right then she said nothing as she got weighed and poked and prodded and asked for a urine sample (now _that_ she could do). She was gaining weight normally, the doctor told her after he felt her belly, and in a few weeks they would do a test that could determine whether there might be something wrong with the baby. He described the procedure and she started to get nervous when he mentioned a big needle, but the promise that she'd get to see her little girl on the ultrasound screen again made it seem worth it. "And your...companion can be there too," he added.

They went out to dinner to celebrate the good news, her and her mother and brother and Robin and Kim, and naturally she chose a sushi place. Her hankering for Japanese food had died down a little, which was fortunate because there was none to be found in Phoenix, but as soon as she smelled the familiar aromas she was hungrier than she'd been in weeks. She tried to impress the others by speaking Japanese with the waiter, who just looked at her blankly and said he was born in Fullerton.

Robin filled her mom in on the wedding plans as they ate. Stevie thought about the irony in how Robin has a future husband but no baby, and she has a future baby but no husband. Together, they're two halves of a fairytale ending. The wedding is scheduled for early October, and even though the date was chosen before any of this pregnancy stuff came up, Stevie still wishes she would change it, because she is going to be eight and a half months pregnant by then and in the pictures she will look like a whale that someone stuffed into a cranberry-toned bridesmaid's dress. With her luck, the baby will probably decide to come early and her water will break in the middle of the ceremony.

Once she'd eaten enough sushi and tempura and soba noodles to tide her over until the next time she was back in LA, she and her mom stopped by her house before they began the drive home. She called Richard to let him know that she and the baby were in good shape and he said he'd tell Lindsey later that night. Then she went up to her bedroom, where several suitcases that she recognized as Lindsey's were lined up against her wall. She unzipped one, feeling slightly guilty as she pulled out the first thing she touched, which turned out to be a gray hooded sweatshirt. Putting it on was instantly calming, and she was pleased that it fit perfectly. She picked a few records out of her collection, the Beach Boys and the Beatles and the Kingston Trio, and then told her mother that she was ready to leave. Her mom frowned slightly when she saw what she was wearing but said nothing.

A few nights later, she's lying awake on her bed listening to Pet Sounds when she hears someone rustling around in the kitchen. She assumes it's her mother, who gets up for a midnight snack every now and then, and decides that she'll go join her. These are the times when she gets lonely and depressed, tired but kept awake by the worries she's pushed aside all day and fearing the worst about everything. Some company would be nice, better than being up here with nothing but her music and the stuffed panda Lindsey gave her in Hawaii.

She stops on the staircase when she hears her father's voice. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No, too much on my mind. I keep thinking that I need to have a talk with her," her mom answers softly, and Stevie leans against the wall to better hear the conversation without being noticed. "From what she told me, I figured she'd be here for a day, maybe a week, and they'd sort things out by then. You know how they are. But now we're going on three, and I'm just not sure."

"Maybe you should get her thinking about putting it up for adoption."

Stevie squeezes the banister, and her mother seems equally as shocked. "Jess! You aren't serious about that, are you?"

"Honey...one way or another, I have a feeling we're going to end up raising this child ourselves, and I'm not sure we're cut out for that at our age. Lindsey's a good boy, he was brought up right, and I think he'll come around. But for how long? You said it yourself, you know how they are."

"Yes, but," Barbara hums, not convinced. "Once the baby's actually here, they'll grow up fast. Teedee will, at least."

"She's going to have to."

" _We_ did, didn't we?"

"But we were different. Times were different then. And with their lifestyle, do they even know what they're getting into?" he asks. "Neither of them are going to want to give up what they've worked so hard for, but how are they going to take a kid on the road for a year? Have they even thought about that?"

"Well, I assumed they'd get a nanny, or we'd watch it while they're away." Stevie nods to herself, because that sounds reasonable, even if she can't fathom having to be away from her daughter at this point when they're constantly connected. And if she _did_ have to leave her, there's no one but her mother who she'd trust to care for her. Her dad may be right that she doesn't want to give up her career, but she's not going to have her child brought up by a stranger, either.

"And that's what I'm getting at. It starts with us babysitting while they're gone, but then it turns into wanting us to keep it while they're recording and doing this and that, especially if they're not getting along, and before you know it, the kid's basically ours." She can't hear it, but she imagines him drumming his fingers on the table in thought. "There's no doubt in my mind that Stephanie will love him or her to death, but when it comes to the day to day, and once she goes back to her old life... "

"You don't really think that she will, do you? When she has the baby, it'll change everything and she'll settle down. It's a mother's instinct."

"If she and Lindsey can make things work together, I'd be more confident -"

"Maybe you should give him a call," her mother suggests, and Stevie silently shakes her head _no_. "Talk to him man to man, you know."

"Barb, we can't get involved like that. It's not going to help anything if he feels like he's been coerced into it. If he decides to show up, then we'll chat, but until then...like I said. Maybe you should just mention the idea of adoption, see how she reacts-"

"I will do no such thing! If _she_ decides on her own that it's what she wants, then of course I'll support her, but I'm not going to be the one to...I know what it's like to have carried that child with you for nine months, and there's no way I could ever suggest that she just give her baby away after that," she says, and Stevie mouths a wordless thank you. "And besides, what if it really is- handicapped? People aren't going to want to adopt a baby if they think the mother was on drugs."

"What if it _is_? Are we prepared to care for a kid like that? Look, I want a grandbaby as much as you do, but I think we need to be honest with ourselves. Teedee's gonna need a lot of help and we have to be realistic about what we can do."

"If she needs help, then she'll have it," her mother says in what Stevie recognizes as the tone she uses when something is no longer up for discussion. "That's what family is for. We know this baby won't want for anything financially and it'll have a loving mother. A child could do a lot worse than that." Neither parent speaks for several moments, and she's about to go back to her room when her mom starts talking again, quieter now. "Every time that phone rings, my heart breaks. I see the look on her face, and when it isn't him...I know they'll see each other soon one way or another, but I just worry it's not going to be the reunion she wants. I keep thinking I need to prepare her for the worst and I just can't because it'll crush her. She really believes it's going to work out."

Stevie bites down on her lip until she can feel the skin start to crack under her sharp teeth in an effort to keep quiet, but it's a losing battle and so she quickly scrambles for the solace of her room. On the top of the dresser is a row of photos she had taken in Japan, ranging from the innocent (the two of them huddled together to stay warm in the snow) to the not so innocent (a blurry shot of them naked and kissing on a hotel bed, taken while they were strung out on Japanese Benzedrine). She doesn't know why she's suddenly filled with anger toward her mother when all she's done is believe the lie that her daughter has been feeding her. If anything, she supposes that she should be proud of herself for putting up such a convincing front, for keeping her fears and anxieties hidden within this room so that her parents are none the wiser.

Unlike her mom, she knew Lindsey would need more than a couple of days. But she hadn't been prepared for how the passing of time would weigh on her, or how tempted she would be to break her promise and call to tell him that she needed him to come and take her back home. She knew from Richard that he had split with Carol Ann and that was reassuring, as was knowing that he was with his family. It's the things she _doesn't_ know that are troubling her. She thought that them being apart would make her stronger, more convinced that she could survive this without him if she had to, but it's done the opposite.

She gathers up the pictures she's had sitting out for 19 days and tucks them away in a drawer, then turns out the light.

\-------------------------

The next day, she doesn't get up to watch the sunrise with her dad. She sleeps through breakfast, only waking when there's a knock on her bedroom door mid-morning.

"Teedee!" her mother chirps, and Stevie can hear the smile in her voice. "Phone for you!"

She doesn't even have to ask who it is, because there's only one call her mom would wake her up for. "Coming!"

As quickly as she can, she throws on her robe and makes her way downstairs. The morning sickness has dissipated for the most part, thankfully, and she has to pee badly but that will have to wait. Her mother has the phone cradled against her shoulder, grinning as she talks to whoever's on the other end.

"It's so good to hear from you, honey. We'll see you soon," she says as she holds the receiver out to Stevie and winks knowingly before going into the next room to give her the illusion of privacy.

"Steph? You there?"

She nods as fast as her pounding heart before she realizes that Lindsey can't see her. "I'm here."

"I missed you, angel. Just hearing your voice is...fuck. I missed it."

"We. We missed you too," she says, trying to contain her excitement in case this turns out to not be the call she was expecting. "Both of us."

"And how are my girls?"

"We're good. Bigger," she adds. It's still not visible when she's clothed, but in the last day or two she's noticed a distinct roundness to her stomach that wasn't there before.

"Can I...are you ready? Because I'm ready. Can I come out there tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she says, almost laughing from sheer relief. "I'm ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{I know it wasn't the chapter y'all were probably waiting for, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! I'm aiming to have the next 1997 chapter done by year's end. I can't promise that you commenting will make me write faster, but you never know...}}


	38. time can heal but this won't, vol. II (1997)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{hello! As promised, I'm back with another update before the new year.
> 
> WARNING: trigger warning for miscarriage, mentions of abortion, and infant loss. I've tried to handle the subject matter sensitively but I know this might be triggering for some.}}

**_October 1997_ **

_He's standing with his feet in the sand, smiling as he watches the two figures splashing in the calm sea in front of him. Stevie's holding a baby with blonde curls in her arms, bouncing him up and down so that his tiny feet dip in and out of the water, and he can hear the little boy giggle with glee every time he kicks._

_He looks above them to the horizon, taking in the warm hues of the setting sun. But then something else appears in his vision, blocking out the light- a giant wave rising up out of nowhere and looming over Stevie and the baby. He shouts out a warning, but neither seem to hear him, so he starts waving his arms in a frantic attempt to get their attention. Stevie finally turns, looking toward him, but -_

Fuck. He jerks awake, muscles tensed in anticipation of the impending tsunami, until he takes in his surroundings and breathes a sigh of relief. It was just a dream, probably brought on by the NyQuil. That stuff always messed with his head.

Stevie moves closer to him in her sleep, her back to his front, and he frowns as he feels something wet against his bare leg. Is it- no, that was a dream. But this feels too real...

He pulls back the comforter she's wrapped around herself to investigate and croaks, his throat too congested to shout. Even without a light on, there's something unmistakably dark staining her cream colored nightgown.

"Stevie!" When she doesn't immediately wake up at the sound of his voice, he starts to panic, shaking her shoulder. "Fuck, Stevie, c'mon. Wake up!"

"Uhh?" she asks blearily, eyes struggling to focus on his frightened face.

He doesn't even know how to say it. "You're."

"I'm," and they both happen within a fraction of a second, to the point where she doesn't know which one came first- the warm, wet feeling soaking her lower half or the sharp, stabbing cramp in her abdomen. "Oh god."

She leaps out of bed and races toward the bathroom without a thought of whether she should be doing this, ignoring Lindsey's plea for her to slow down and flinging the door shut behind her. _Oh God._ She's never had this happen before, but there's no mistaking what it is.

"Stevie, what-"

"Don't come in!" she shouts, frantic. She doesn't want him to see this.

One of the dogs is barking urgently at the commotion while one sits almost unnaturally still outside the door. "What do I do?"

"Call Karen."

Karen! _She's a woman, she'll figure this out_ , he decides as he picks up the phone.

She answers after half a ring. "Stevie?"

"No. She. Blood," he stutters.

She doesn't miss a beat, and in that moment he had never been so grateful. "On my way up."

"Steph. She's coming," Stevie hears him say. "Do I. I should call 911?"

"No! I don't want a fucking - Jesus Christ, I'm not dying!" She can feel it trickling out of her steadily, but not profusely, and _oh God this cannot be happening._

"How the hell would I know?" He doesn't mean for it to come out so harshly, but what is he supposed to do when he has no idea what's going on? All he knows is she's bleeding, and she's not supposed to be, and this is not good. Fortunately, he's saved by a sharp series of knocks at the door to their room. He opens it and Karen bustles past him without a word. "She's in the bathroom!"

"Stevie, I'm coming," he hears her say, leaving him pacing across the bedroom alone again as the two women speak to each other in low, serious voices. Then he hears a pained cry and fuck it, he's going in.

He nearly collides with Karen as she opens the bathroom door, her body blocking him from seeing any part of Stevie except for the top of her head. "No. Stay out."

"But I need -"

"The first thing you need to do is get dressed," Karen says pointedly, and it's only then that he realizes he's been wearing nothing but his boxers this entire time. "I'm going to call downstairs for a car to take us to the hospital, so put something on and then help her get changed."

Okay. Instructions are good. He can do that. "Is...she's gonna be alright, isn't she?"

"She is." Neither of them mention the baby; there's no need to.

He throws on the shirt and jeans he wore to the venue yesterday and then throws open the closet. He reaches for a pair of underwear (dark) and tosses aside her leggings, deciding tight pants might be too uncomfortable if her stomach is hurting her, then grabbing the first skirt he sees, which turns out to be a dress. Maybe a touch too formal for a middle of the night trip to the ER, but it'll do.

"Do you have my clothes?" he hears her ask, and the helplessness in her voice is gut-crushing.

"Yeah, baby, right here." He assumes she'll open the door for him, but instead she reaches her arm out and grabs them away before it shuts again. "Can I -"

Ignoring his half question, she curses when she sees a trail of blood droplets on the floor as she sits back down on the toilet to change. She wasn't preparing for this when she packed, and the few supplies she has on hand aren't going to be sufficient to get her to the hospital, so she takes one of the scratchy hotel hand towels and stuffs it in her underwear and _God how is this happening?_

She pulls on the dress that Lindsey brought her, wincing when she lifts her arms above her head, and then she hastily uses another towel to mop up the floor and throws it on top of her stained clothes.

The door opens, not a millimeter more than necessary. "I'm. Will you zip me up?"

"Course, yeah," he says, again grateful to be given something to do, to pretend like he has even a single iota of control over this situation. Neither of them look at each other; a silent mutual agreement. They're both on autopilot, and if their eyes were to meet, they'd be forced to confront the reality of the situation. There's no time for that now. They already know what's going on.

Karen comes back into the room, all business as usual, and saves them from having to speak. "Alright, I've got someone to take us. They said to go out the side door to the garage - I'm going to go get my stuff and I'll meet you down there. Lindsey?"

"Yup, got it," he assures her when she looks at him to confirm. She nods at them both and then she's off, her mouth set in a line. Stevie watches her go and starts to follow in her direction, each step halting as she makes her way toward the door, stopping when she feels another small gush of blood. "Steph. You need help?"

"My shoes," she manages to say before collapsing onto the couch. She'd been almost numb to the pain up to this point, save for a half dozen or so cramps that made her breath catch in her throat, but moving around had made her more aware of the persistent ache across her back and lower abdomen.

He brings her the tennis shoes she uses on the treadmill and kneels down to slip them onto her feet, sensing that she's too weak to bend over and do it herself. "Let me get your coat."

"I don't want it."

"But it's cold, and you're already shivering-"

"I'm burning up, okay, I don't want it," she hisses, and he remembers how the back of her neck had been clammy with sweat when he zipped up her dress, so he doesn't fight her on it. Instead he helps her to her feet, and they slowly, silently make their way downstairs.

She wraps her arms around herself in the elevator, and he takes off his own leather jacket and drapes it over her shoulders.

Karen is waiting for them at the entrance to the parking garage, tapping her foot anxiously, and again he wonders if there's something the women aren't telling him. He saw the blood-spattered towels stuffed in the corner of the bathroom between the tub and the toilet but pretended that he didn't, trusting that Karen would have much more urgency if they really thought she was at risk of bleeding out.

_God, just let her be okay._ He doesn't dare ask for more than that. It seems blasphemous to pray for lost causes.

"I need to lie down," Stevie says, voice wobbling. Their 'car' is actually a minivan, usually tasked with shuttling guests to the airport, and so Lindsey helps her climb into the middle row bench seat and then moves all the way to the far side so that she can rest her head on his lap. He looks up and exchanges glances in the rearview mirror with their driver, a skinny kid of about 20 who seems mildly terrified. When he notices Lindsey watching him, he straightens his back and nods, a sure sign that Karen has read him the riot act before they arrived.

She gets into the passenger seat and they exchange words that Lindsey can't make out as they drive away from the hotel and into the blustery Seattle night. "How long?"

"About ten minutes, sir," the kid answers, "but I can drive faster-"

"No," all three passengers respond in unison.

Stevie's still hugging her arms to her chest, lying on her side with her legs bent as he strokes her hair in a useless attempt to comfort her. Every so often he hears her suck in a breath and watches as she clenches the sleeve of his jacket tighter in her fist.

They're at a stoplight when she shifts so that her head is turned upward toward him, and for the first time he sees the wetness on her cheeks.

_I'm sorry_ , she mouths.

\-------------------------

"I got you some coffee."

Lindsey sits down in the thinly padded waiting room chair and takes the Styrofoam cup from Karen. He's been running off of adrenaline all night and the coughing fit he just had reminded him that yes, he himself is still sick and sleep deprived. "Thanks."

"Mick said to keep him in the loop. They're going to say the cancellation is on account of you being sick." For once he doesn't argue that he can play through it, although he has a feeling that Stevie will try once she finds out. "I thought about calling her parents but...I wasn't sure. If you would rather be the one."

"Yeah. I'll call once we hear how it went from the doctor." No need for them to have to worry more than they already will.

"You know, Lindsey," she says softly in a tone he's never heard from her before, at least not directed at him. "I really am sorry. For her, but for you too."

"Thanks."

The baby was gone, just like they knew it would be. A nurse had tried to bullshit them when they first arrived, telling them that bleeding doesn't always mean a miscarriage, but an ultrasound confirmed their fears. There was no heartbeat.

_I don't understand_ , he heard her murmuring to herself. _This wasn't supposed to happen._

A specialist from the maternity ward came down to talk to them. Stevie was still in a daze, so he tried to think of all the questions she would ask. _We don't always know what causes these things_ , the doctor told them, and he's heard that before. He never fucking wants to hear it again. Especially not now. _She did everything right this time_ , he argued with the doctor, as if that might've made him change his mind.

The deck was stacked against them from the beginning, the doctor admitted in not so many words, in between her age and their history. It could've been another situation like their previous pregnancy, or it could've been completely unrelated, but there was nothing she could've done differently or any way that they could've stopped it. He said they could run some tests, although there was no guarantee they'd get any answers.

Her options at that point were either to go home with some medication and 'wait it out' or to have whatever was left (the less he thought about that, the better) removed surgically. The doctor suggested the latter because of how much she'd been bleeding and how she was already running a slight fever, which could be a sign of a developing infection. She agreed without hesitating and asked how soon she could get it done. It was the first thing she'd said out loud since they'd arrived, save for a soft sigh every so often when she'd wince in pain and tighten her grip on his hand.

The doctor told them that the nurse would be in soon to get her IV started, but he'd give them a few minutes to themselves first. He left and Lindsey snarled at Karen, who'd been sitting silently in the corner this whole time, when she didn't stand up fast enough. "Why are you still here?"

Once she was gone and the two of them were finally alone together, their stoic facades quickly crumbled. They'd both felt mostly numb up to that point, but now reality had come crashing down on them as they clung desperately to each other and sobbed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. So sorry," she choked out, and it was the worst goddamned form of deja vu he'd ever experienced in his life. Why did this have to happen to them? To her? She, of all people, didn't deserve this.

"Hey. No. You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?" he said quietly but emphatically, his forehead resting on her temple. "It's not your fault, you heard what he said."

"But you-"

"Steph. The only thing that matters to me right now is that you're okay." He tucked a strand of sweat dampened hair behind her ear. "Are you sure you want the surgery? Because we don't have to - if you're worried about the tour, don't be. We can take all the time you need."

"No, I'm sure. I don't want to wait around for days in pain like this and...it's not like before. They're already gone. And I didn't get to say goodbye this time..." She dissolved into tears again and all he could do was hold onto her as tightly as he could, whispering meaningless reassurances until they came to take her away.

\-------------------------

The doctor appears in the doorway of the waiting room, giving Lindsey and Karen a sympathetic smile. "I just wanted to let you two know that she's in the recovery room now and doing fine. Everything went well and she's starting to wake up, so in a few minutes when she's a little more conscious, you'll be able to come back and see her. And then, unless any problems pop up, she'll be discharged before noontime."

"I...I think I should go call Barb and Jess while we're waiting," Lindsey tells Karen after the doctor leaves, wanting an excuse to get up and clear his head. He takes the long route to the payphone, stopping by the bathroom to splash some water on his face when he catches a glimpse of his reflection. Christ, he looks like shit. He should've shaved before he went to bed. Hell, maybe he shouldn't have gone to bed at all. He should've stayed awake, sickness be damned. Not because he thinks he could've changed the outcome - although part of him will keep wondering if he could've - but because he hates that he wasted that last hour with the three of them together on sleep.

He drops quarters into the coin slot and punches in the number, pinching the bridge of his nose. It rings once, twice, and someone picks up midway through the third ring. "Hello?"

"Barb, it's Lindsey. Now, I don't want to scare you," he warns, as if calling in the small hours of the morning wasn't a cause for alarm in itself. "Stevie's okay, or. She will be. But I do have some bad news..."

He's both relieved and confused when he returns to the waiting area and finds that Karen isn't there. Sitting down in the same chair as before, he leans his head back against the wall and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. Both of the elder Nicks' had been devastated, obviously, and worried about their daughter even though he promised them that she would be physically fine. Barb had wanted to get on a plane right away, but he managed to convince her to hold off until he had a chance to talk to Stevie herself.

Karen comes back into the room looking markedly worse for wear, not making eye contact with him. "You can go in there now. I'm going to call Mick again and give him an update."

"How's she feeling?" he asks, and she shrugs as if to say 'see for yourself '.

Her head is turned away from him when he enters the room, facing toward a window where the first tentative rays of morning sun are barely visible in the starry sky. He approaches slowly, unsure whether she's asleep, but as he gets closer he sees that her eyes are open. "Hey."

"Hey," she repeats, not moving as he pulls up a chair and sits down. He tries to take her hand, but she keeps it where it's resting flat atop the blanket. "How are you feeling? The doctor said it went good...are they giving you something for the pain in the IV?"

"Yeah." He can see tears start to form in her eyes again even though she still won't look at him. "Linds...I love you, but I can't do this anymore."

Huh? "What do you...what is 'this'? If you mean having a baby -"

"No. I mean, that too. I know I'm not gonna get pregnant again. But that's not...I'm talking about all of this. Us." She finally turns toward him, shaking her head in apology. "I just don't think it's going to work. We've tried so many times, and this happening now- it's a sign that it's not meant to be."

"Angel, no. All it means is...maybe we weren't meant to have a baby this way, but what about everything else we talked about before? We have other options, we can take some time and then when we're ready, we'll decide," he promises her.

She looks unconvinced. "And what if that doesn't happen either? What if something comes along to fuck _that_ up just like everything else in my life?"

"Then I'm still not going anywhere! It doesn't change that I love you and I want to be with you," he argues, and _damnit_ why had he held off on proposing? Ring or no ring, maybe it would've persuaded her that he was committed. "Hell, I've been planning on asking you to marry me for weeks, I just haven't had the ring with me."

It must have been the wrong thing to say, because she starts crying harder. "It doesn't matter now. The whole point was that we were going to be a family."

"The whole point of...what? Our relationship? No. I haven't spent the last thirty years in love with you just because I thought I'd eventually get a kid out of it. That's ridiculous."

"But you were so happy," she insists, teardrops dripping onto her blue hospital gown. "You wanted one so badly, don't try and tell me you didn't."

He's had his share of moments when he's felt like he's been thrown to the ground by the invisible hand of grief - when his mother called to tell him that his dad died, when they lost Samantha, when he got Stevie's wedding announcement in the mail, and on and on. He's not a stranger to that experience. He's just never had it happen twice in one day before. "Of course I did, just like you did, but we're gonna get through this. Please. I can't lose you too."

"You're not losing me," she finally says, looking and sounding more composed as she stops crying and pushes herself further upright, and for a moment he wrongly thinks that he might be getting through to her. "I still love you. We don't have to hate each other, I'm not angry at you. I just can't be with you anymore."

On some level, he understands what she's doing. He thinks about what went on 17 years ago, how she tried to push him away by picking a fight, and how this time she's shutting down to avoid fighting altogether. "Steph, angel, I know you're hurting, but we don't have to end this right now. If you need a break, you need some time on your own to think everything through -"

"No. Because if I say we're taking a break, it'll just get your hopes up that this is temporary and...it's too hard, it's not fair to either of us. We've seen where that leads. So if we end things now, then maybe we can still be friends."

He wants to scream _fuck that_ , that he doesn't want to be her fucking friend. Not when they love each other and there's no good reason for them not to be together. They've been down this road before and all it did was hurt them both. But her eyes are silently pleading with him and she's so vulnerable right now, lying in a hospital bed far from home, and he just can't add to that by fighting her. Not here and not today.

"What do you want me to do?" he asks in resignation.

"Karen said she'd stay with me once they let me go back to the hotel. And that you could stay in her room. You should head back and get some sleep."

Fuck. She really is serious about this. Again he thought he saw a second's worth of indecision in her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Just like his place in her life, apparently. "Okay. But if you change your mind-"

"I know."

She keeps her stare trained on her hands when he stands up and kisses her head. "I wish you'd let me in, because I hate that you're hurting. But I still love you."

She doesn't answer.

Naturally, the first person he sees in the hallway is Karen. Her strange behavior when she came back from seeing Stevie makes much more sense now. "Lemme guess, this was your idea? You put this shit in her head?"

"Excuse me?" He can tell she's tempering her response because of the circumstances, but he's not sure how much compassion she really has for him. "For your information, I tried to talk her out of it. She's not in a place to be thinking clearly," she waves a blue piece of paper at him, "just like it says right here. Don't make any major decisions for 24 hours post-surgery. But she wouldn't listen."

Well, if she wouldn't listen to Karen, then there's _really_ no way he could've changed her mind. "She isn't being fair! She's not the only one who - I don't deserve this. I lost someone too, you know."

"I know you did," she says gently, unaware of how he's found himself repeating something he said almost two decades ago. "And I know this isn't actually what she wants...I just hope she'll come to her senses soon. I don't know what else I can do." She reaches into her bag and pulls out her hotel keyring. "My stuff's already packed up to go, so you can call the bellhop and have it moved upstairs."

He takes the key from her gratefully. He can't hang around this place any longer, but... "If _anything_ changes, or if there's anything you think I should know, call me, please, and I'll be right there."

"I will. And take care of yourself, Lindsey, seriously."

"Yeah. Take care of her for me."

And he walked down the hall and out of the hospital, away from the place where he had been forced to say his goodbyes to both of the people he loved most in this world.

He goes back to the hotel and only then does he let himself cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to 1980 next time. Things are happier there, I promise...
> 
> Also, even though things look bleak now, I swear this story will not end on a bad note. BUT, it's not the end yet.


	39. still the only one who feels like home (1980)

**_April 1980_ **

"Momma, he's here!"

Stevie had been sitting in front of the picture window in her parents' living room when she spotted Lindsey's Mercedes at the far end of the block. Her mother came in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Answer the door? I'm too nervous."

"Stephanie..." her mother says wearily, but she heads for the door anyway and Stevie follows behind her, peeking out over her shoulder.

As it was, Ginny ended up being first in line to greet their visitor. She barks in excitement when she realizes who it is, not having seen Lindsey for more than six months, and she jumps into his arms when he leans down to pet her. "Hey there, Gin-Gin!"

"She's certainly missed you," Barbara remarks as Ginny eagerly licks his face. Stevie smiles at their sweet reunion, rubbing the beginnings of a bump that's hidden under a loose white sundress.

"I missed the old girl too," Lindsey says, setting her back down on the ground. She runs in tiny circles like she's chasing her own tail, yipping happily, and Lindsey gets a good look at Stevie for the first time. She's barefoot and barefaced, dressed all in white like some sort of angel. His angel. "Hey..."

"I need to go check my muffins," Barbara decides, not so subtly giving the couple some privacy.

Stevie is momentarily rooted to the spot, taking in the image of him standing at her door covered in dog hair the same way someone dying of thirst would look at an oasis in the desert; overwhelmed with hope but terrified that it may all be an illusion. "You can co-"

"Stevie, no, what's the matter?" he asks as she stops mid-sentence and bursts into tears, taking two big steps toward her and gathering her in his embrace. She clings to him so tightly that she wonders if she's hurting him, her nails digging into his shoulders, but he doesn't make any move to let go of her. "I'm here, baby, I'm here. Did...did you think that I had changed my mind?"

She pulls back to look at him, shaking her head. "I...no, I don't know."

"I'm sorry, babe," he says as he cups her cheek in his palm, interpreting that as a 'yes'. "I thought about you, about both of you, the whole time, swear to God. I missed you so much."

"I missed you too. But I'm...you're back for good now, right?"

"Yes, God, yes," he promises, kissing a drop of salt water off of the tip of her nose. "We're not gonna be apart again, I mean it."

"We're gonna be a real family." Her smile lights up her face even through her tears, and again he's struck by how she truly is glowing. She always did, at least in his eyes, but this is unlike anything he's ever seen before.

"We are. You're my two girls now." Hearing this activates the waterworks again for her, and he even finds himself getting misty eyed as they hold each other in the middle of her parents' living room; a barking dog running back and forth across the floor and her mother watching surreptitiously from the kitchen. This is exactly what he wanted and where he wanted to be, and their separation over the last few weeks was worth every second spent missing her because it had gotten them to this point. He's not a perfect man, not even close, but he's confident now that he can be a good one. "Can I..."

She takes his hand in hers and puts it on the spot she was rubbing earlier. He chuckles in amazement when he feels the small bump and sees the proud grin on her face. "I told you she's growing!"

"She is, and you're doing such a good job growing her." He can't get over how healthy she looks compared to the last time he saw her- hell, compared to how she's looked for a long time. She looks stronger and not so tired, but more importantly than that, she looks happy. Genuinely. Like she trusts him again.

She puts her hands back on his shoulders and kisses him, her soft lips warm against his own, and it takes everything he has to pull away when her tongue darts out of her mouth to brush against the seam of his lips.

"Your mom is spying on us," he hisses when she frowns at him.

"Ooops." She giggles and hugs him again, her face pressed against his neck. "I love you. It's so good to have you back."

How many times had he thought he'd never hear that again? "Love you too, Steph."

\-------------------------

In the afternoon, they take a drive out to the plot of land where she's going to have her (their) new home built. He had seemed surprised at first when she told him that she wanted to live in Arizona more permanently. She was worried that maybe he wasn't on board, but when she showed him the sketches and explained why she thought it was the best place to raise the baby, he agreed and told her that he wanted whatever she wanted.

The other reason she'd suggested they take the drive was to get away from the prying eyes of her mother. When they get back into the car after their walk around the property, she immediately goes in for the kill.

"Mmmf...shit, what are you doing?" he asks in between kisses, but it doesn't seem like he's objecting.

"Lindsey, I am horny," she says matter-of-factly, "and I have been waiting for three weeks for you to take care of it."

He laughs, slapping his hand on the steering wheel as she gives him an impatient look. "Is that the real reason you brought me out here?"

"Yes. Well, no. I mean, one of the reasons. It's not like I can take you up to my bedroom with my mother standing right there...are you going to have sex with me or not?"

He has also been celibate for a long time - longer than her, in fact. He hasn't gotten anything from anybody since that day when they got caught by Carol and he would very much like to change that. But he wants to do it right. So much has happened between them since then, and she deserves more than a quick fuck in the backseat. And it _would_ have to be quick, because he'd already made a promise to Mrs. Nicks. "Later, baby. We will later."

"But why not now?" she asks, scowling when he tries to kiss her.

He points to his watch. "We only have a few minutes until your mom wants us back for dinner -"

"I'm telling you that I want you to fuck me and you're worried about being late for dinner? I know her lasagna is good, but -"

He tries again for a kiss and succeeds this time. "She told me specifically to have you back by 6:30. I already knocked up her daughter, so that's the least I can do if I want her to _not_ hate me."

"What a gentleman," she says with an eye roll, but she can't hide her smile when he kisses her again.

\-------------------------

They play Monopoly after dinner with Stevie's parents, continuing a game that the family had started two nights earlier. She and Lindsey played as a team, chairs right beside each other so that he could keep one arm around her, until Jess decided he wanted to see the end of the baseball game on TV and told Lindsey that he could play for him. Lindsey was quickly able to push Stevie to the verge of bankruptcy, and was very nearly there when he and Barbara both noticed that she had been trying to hide her frequent yawns.

"Well, I'm going to get ready for bed," Barbara announces as she stands up. "Lindsey, the couch in the basement pulls out and-"

Stevie groans. " _Mother_. He already got me pregnant, I mean, what else is going to happen? That ship has sailed."

"That's not- it's the principle that -"

"Left the harbor, cruised into the sunset," Stevie insists, not budging, and Lindsey was about to say he'd take the couch just to put an end to this uncomfortable conversation. "See that tiny little speck way out there? It's so small, I can't even see it anymore."

Barbara relents, kissing the top of her daughter's head. "You kids do what you want and if your father asks, I'll say I don't know what's going on. Sleep well."

"You want to go to bed too?" Lindsey asks as Stevie rests her head on his shoulder, once again rubbing her belly.

She looks up at him with a wide grin. "God, yes. Please."

"I didn't mean...I thought you were tired?"

"I was, I mean, I am. But," she drawls, running her fingers over his jawline slowly, "there's something else I want too. Remember?"

Like he would forget. "Are you sure? Because we can wait-"

"I'm not going to be able to sleep until we do. My fingers aren't cutting it anymore, Linds."

Fuck. Okay. He gets out of his chair in such a hurry that he almost knocks it over and she covers her mouth to stifle her giggles, taking his hand and leading him upstairs to the guest room. "Uh. Your folks aren't going to hear us, are they?"

"That all depends on how loud you are, doesn't it?" She lets her hand brush over the front of his jeans before she turns to lock the door, then goes over to the record player and points to a stack of albums, telling him to choose one, and he smiles as he looks at his choices. "I got some of your favorites when I was at home so that I could play them for her, cause I thought you'd like that. I'd already been listening to our old stuff at night so she could hear your voice and hear you playing."

"You...really? And what did our little panda think about that?" he asks, unexpectedly emotional when he imagines her singing softly and dancing along to the music, the way he's seen her do so many times before, only now with their baby growing inside her too.

She smiles at the nickname, her head resting on his chest. "She liked it, at least I hope so."

"Course she did, I've got great taste," he says as he makes his choice and puts it on the turntable, adjusting the volume to a level that would hopefully muffle any sounds coming from the room without disturbing her parents in their sleep. As much as he loved hearing her getting loud, and loved other people hearing her getting loud, this was not the time. He'd have to wait until they got home tomorrow to make her scream. Today he'd make her...cry? "Stevie, honey, what is it?"

She shakes her head and looks down at her freshly painted toenails, feeling ridiculous but unable to stop herself. "I just. My new bra is really ugly. I look like an old lady."

"Oh." He doesn't know what else to say, or why this is making her tear up, but he knows that he absolutely cannot laugh, as much as he might want to. "Babe, I...I don't care. I promise. I think you're hot even as an old lady, but if it bothers you, why don't you just take it off now? I won't look."

She nods like she's okay with that, and he's thinking the crisis has been averted, but then she gets teary again as she plays with the strap on her dress. "I'm fatter than the last time you saw me. I've gained eight-and-a-third pounds."

"That's okay, that's what you're supposed to do. I'd be worried if you _weren't_ gaining any," he assures her. Honestly, he hadn't noticed any changes so far other than the small bump he'd been able to feel under her dress. Maybe her face was a little fuller, but that was it. "And I still think you're beautiful. But if you don't want to do this -"

"No, I do! Just...don't look," she orders, motioning with her hand for him to keep his back to her. He does as told, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking the stuffed panda off of her pillow, making it face the wall. Then he feels the mattress dip slightly behind him as she gives him permission to turn around.

" _Stevie_. Fuck." He assumed she was going to take off her 'ugly' bra and hide under the covers. But here she was, completely naked with the warm lamplight bathing her skin, and here he was gulping like all the oxygen had just been sucked out of the room. "You're...what the hell were you worried about? You're gorgeous."

She watches him with amusement as he settles himself between her thighs, his hand automatically drawn to the curve of her lower abdomen that she'd been concealing from him. "That's her, huh? That's our panda."

"You know we can't name her that, right?" she teases, even though she's thought it was an adorable nickname ever since he gave her the stuffed animal. It was such a sweet, if inaccurate reminder of how special that trip had been and how much in love they were even before the words were spoken.

"What, no Panda Lynn Buckingham?"

She laughs in surprise, but not at the surname. They hadn't talked about it yet, but even in her angriest moments she never considered having her baby _not_ be a Buckingham. To her it was a given. "She has my middle name?"

"Eh, I thought it would be...it's kinda a play on both our names, y'know?" He scratches behind his ear, the tip of which she can see is turning pink.

"I love it."

"Yeah?" He tilts his head down, kissing her stomach with reverence. "I love you."

"I love you too, baby. Now make love to me."

His mouth drops kisses from just below her bellybutton to her hipbone and then back again, moving to the other side. He can already faintly smell her arousal and _damn_ , she must not have been exaggerating when they were in the car that afternoon."You're so beautiful. More than ever."

He's not exaggerating either. He traces her sides of her breasts with his hands to savor the feel of her soft skin, and she whimpers softly, arching her chest toward him.

"Linds...mmm. Please." They're definitely fuller than before, her nipples a shade darker and more prominent, and he figures he must be staring like a kid who's seeing a topless woman for the first time. To avoid staring, he takes a nipple in his mouth and she bites back a loud moan. " _Uhhh!_ "

"Shit, did I -"

"No, god, don't you fucking stop," she hisses, pushing his head back down. "Just. Wow."

He chuckles. "I dunno, you sure you can be quiet? Don't want to get busted."

" _Lind_ sey. Trust me, after three weeks, I know exactly how much they can hear."

He starts to ask but decides she'd rather have his tongue doing other things, licking and sucking one nipple while he teases the other with his fingers and she gasps and writhes underneath him. "I missed this so much," he confesses. "Missed making you feel good."

Her eyes are closed and her lips are parted slightly, arms stretched out over her head. He keeps his mouth on her breast and is careful not to put his weight on her as he lets his hand trail over the rest of her body, caressing her everywhere as if he could erase all the hurt of the last months this way. They've always been better at touching than talking, after all, and to him, her willingly surrendering to him physically is what he needs to be certain that he really has been forgiven.

"Fuck," she sighs, a lazy smile on her face. "Linds...oh. God. I wish you had two mouths."

He snickers and reaches underneath her to palm her ass. "Never thought you could love me sucking on your tits more than you already did."

"Shuttup," she says, her breathing quickly becoming more erratic. "Baby. Touch me."

"I can do better than that." Before she can object, he lets go of her breast and lifts her legs up over his shoulders, licking his bottom lip as he takes in the view of her all spread out for him. "Is this okay?" When she gives him an enthusiastic dig in the back with her heel, he wastes no time in getting to work, licking a stripe all the way across her center before swirling his tongue around her clit. He knows that she's close and he doesn't need to bother working her up, not when he's been feeling her wetness against his thigh since she undressed. She's dripping for him and the taste is unbelievable, richer than before, and he can feel her pulsing on the tip of his tongue when she pulls a pillow over her head and comes.

When he looks up she's thrown the pillow aside, looking back at him with a flushed face, tousled hair, and a satisfied grin. "Told you I could stay quiet."

"Never doubted you," he says as she sits up and quickly starts unzipping his jeans. "Are you - it won't hurt if we..."

"Lindsey, your dick is not _that_ big. She's pretty far up in there."

He shucks his pants and pulls her into a bear hug with her back to his front, tickling her in the ribs. "I knew that, smartass. I just don't want it to be uncomfortable for you, either of you..."

"You're sweet," she says, nuzzling his shoulder. "It's fine, you just can't be squishing my stomach."

He's about to say something else, but gets distracted by her hand slowly stroking him. Their eyes meet and he raises an eyebrow at her seductively. "You want my cock?"

"Mmm. Maybe."

"Nope." He shakes his head, taking her hands by the wrists and clasping them together. "Gotta say it."

She holds his stare for a long moment, biting her lip as she watches him. "Please, daddy?"

"Much better," he says, holding himself back from flipping her over and taking her right then like he would normally do. "Can you lie down on your side?"

She does as told and he spoons her from behind. When she hooks her thigh over his, she lets out a groan. "Shit, that actually...oh, that's good. My hips and my back are getting sore, Momma said it's the muscles stretching so the baby can grow."

"How's this?" he asks as his fingers press all around her hipbone.

"Ohhh, keep doing that. And fuck me."

"Mmm. I can do that too." He nudges her opening with the tip of his cock and then gently guides himself inside her, exhaling with relief as he does. "God, angel...you feel incredible."

He kisses her neck as he rocks back and forth, a little deeper each time, and she places her hand on top of his when her palm smooths across her belly. He moves at a languid pace, whispering in her ear all the things he'd been thinking of for the last three weeks. That he loves her and he's going to take care of her and he's so happy that she's going to make him a father. And also how much he's really, _really_ wanted to fuck her. "Is this better than your fingers?"

"Christ, yes," she sighs.

Having spent many long nights alone with his own hand as of late, he's inclined to agree. "Tell me what you thought about. While you were doing it."

"Umm," and he can practically feel the heat coming off of her reddened face. "That night in Japan when we were so high and then we got in the shower and you put your mouth, you know. _There_."

"Oh yeah, you enjoyed that?" he asks innocently, as if she hadn't screamed so loudly that the people in the next room called the front desk to complain.

"Shut up," she hisses again, but there's no heat behind it. They start moving faster, working together in tandem, and she reaches back to grab his ass and pull him closer while he takes one of her breasts in his palm, his forearm pressed against the other. He sees her hand disappear between her legs and tries to stop her, but she insists he keep his arm where it is. "Shit...keep doing that. 's so good."

He doesn't want it to end, and not just because he's impressed with how long he's been able to last after his month-long dry spell. It feels like home, the way that their bodies fit together, but he can tell that she's almost there and the only thing better than being inside her is having her come undone in his arms. "Let go, angel, I've got you... "

" _Lindsey!_ "

It's that soft little gasp of his name that does it, and then he's spilling into her while she's tightening around him again and again, fingers rubbing her clit furiously. He hooks his chin over her shoulder and bites at her exposed neck. "Mmm, good girl...that's my girl. You're so good."

When she finally stills, she takes his hand in hers and puts it back on her stomach.

He's home.

\-------------------------

They lie side by side facing each other, trading slow kisses while he traces the length of her spine with his finger. "Uh."

"Hmm?" she asks, unsure why he sounds worried all of a sudden.

"It's just that...is it okay for..." He furrows his eyebrows. "Should I have pulled out?"

Again she tries not to laugh because she knows he's serious, but his concern is so endearing that it's hard not to. "It's alright, honey, it's not going to hurt the baby or anything."

"Good," he says, looking relieved.

"I thought you were going to ask me if that's how twins are made."

"I'm not that stupid!" He pokes her stomach in false indignation and she smirks.

"Besides, if it was...with how many times we did it in Japan, once I was already pregnant, I'd be having a whole litter," she says, remembering a movie they saw on one of their early dates. "This isn't 101 Dalmatians."

"Yeah, heh." He's laughing, but his face isn't.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I wasn't making fun of you."

"No, no, that's not it." When she questions him, he shakes his head. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

She thinks back, replaying her words in her head. A litter of puppies, them having sex when she was already (unknowingly) pregnant- _oh_. "You're still mad. That I slept with other people after we..."

"I'm not mad." At least she admits there were 'people', plural, rather than trying to pretend she... _damnit, Buck, stop it!_

"But you're upset."

"I mean, I guess." He's never liked the idea of any other guy touching her, period, but thinking about some asshole putting his dick inside her while she's pregnant with _his_ baby is on a whole different level. He's not that guy anymore, though, the guy who would call her names and get angry about something that happened in the past, when they weren't technically together and she didn't know she was pregnant. So he keeps his mouth shut.

"Linds. Listen to me. I'm not going to apologize or say I shouldn't have done it or whatever." She can admit to herself that she went a little overboard in Australia, too many drugs and too many late nights and too many strangers in her bed, but she's not into regrets. His face becomes wooden and she hurries to clarify. "But...are you listening? None of them, nobody else, has ever come close to you. I would always choose you in a heartbeat."

He wants to argue that she could have had him, that it was _her_ choice to push him away, but he's learned that there's no way he can defend himself and his position when it comes to the whole proposing to Carol thing. So he doesn't. "I'm here, and you have me. Forever, if that's what you want."

"I do. I do want," she says, her smile as warm as the heat radiating off of her skin, and he remembers that old diamond ring that he has tucked away at home (well technically, right now it's inside a suitcase at Stevie's house). But before he can say anything about it, he realizes that she's crying again. "Steph?"

"What if she hates me?"

"Who?"

"The baby!" she says, pointing to her stomach. "What if there's something wrong with her and it's my fault? She's going to blame me for not taking better care of her."

As much as it hurts him, hearing her cry, it hurts more wondering how long she might have been thinking about this without him being there to comfort her. Too long, more than likely. "Oh Stevie...she's not going to hate you, I promise. No matter what happens."

"How could she _not_?" she asks, disagreeing, but she doesn't try to pull away when he holds her closer to him.

"Because she's going to understand that things happen, and maybe it's not always fair, but it's not because you didn't take care of her." He pauses, stroking her hair. "I mean, how would you feel if it was your mom?"

"Oh. I...huh. Well, I guess I know that she'd never do anything to hurt me on purpose because she always - whatever I need, she's always been there for me," she says, thinking about the conversation between her parents that she overheard the night before. Her mother believed in her, even now, and was ready to help and support her despite her reservations.

"See? And you'll be the same way. She'll know that we love her and we're giving her everything we can." He presses his lips to her forehead, still needing to reassure himself that she was really there with him. "You're going to be such a good mother. And you're still the only one I've ever wanted this with."

"You really mean that?"

"Yeah, course I do." He wipes at her cheek with his thumb and gives her a sympathetic smile. "Everyone loves you. How could our baby be any different? No matter what...she's lucky to have you."

Stevie sniffles. "I'm sorry, I'm so emotional these days."

"Ah, that's nothing new," he teases, poking her again lightly as she rolled her eyes. "What? I'm moody too...so I've been told."

"Ha! Our daughter is doomed, isn't she?"

He answers, but she doesn't seem to hear him, occupied with running her fingers up and down from his belly button to the base of his cock, watching it start to stir. "You ready for one more round?"

"Only one?" she asks with a pout, laughing as he growls and pulls her on top of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{Next time, Stevie's parents have some questions for Lindsey, and Lindsey has a question for Stevie. But first, we're headed back to 1997, where there's no way that Lindsey could make things worse. Or is there??}}


	40. me who makes the monsters (1997)

**_October 1997_ **

"Stevie?"

"Sorry," he hears Karen say on the other end of the line, and he doesn't even bother to hide his disappointed sigh. He had been lying right beside the phone waiting for an update for hours now, ever since Karen had snuck downstairs to tell him that they were back from the hospital.

"How is she?"

"Asleep, finally," she says, and it's only then that he realizes the sun has set. Quite a while ago, according to the clock. How long has he been lying here? He must have fallen asleep himself at some point, despite his best efforts to stay awake, and yet he doesn't feel the least bit rested. "For how long, I don't know. I tried to get her to bed at ten, but she's thrown up a few times since then-"

"Well, doesn't that mean something's wrong? Shouldn't you call the doctor?" he barks at her. It had taken longer than they'd expected for her to be discharged, according to Karen, because the doctor wouldn't let her go until her temperature came back down to normal, and knowing this without being able to see her wasn't doing anything to calm his nerves.

"It's just because of all those meds on an empty stomach," Karen explains calmly. "I tried to get her to eat something, but she won't."

"I don't even know if she ate after the show last night. Usually I call room service, but I just wanted to shower and get to bed, so she told me she'd make herself something...damnit. I should've made sure..."

"Lindsey. It's not your fault," she says before he can continue. "Listen- I've gotta go, I don't want her to wake up and hear me. But you should try and get some sleep too, okay?"

"Has...has she mentioned me at all?" he asks, even though he's afraid of the answer.

Karen hesitates. "She really hasn't talked much, period. The ride home wiped her out and she's been pretty groggy since then. But she did ask me about the clothes, how I knew what ones she'd want, and I told her that it was you who left them there."

"Alright." When he had come back to the hotel to get his stuff and move it down to what used to be Karen's room, he had left her favorite t-shirt and shorts (ones that used to be his, naturally) folded on her pillow for when she would return. "Karen, if anything happens, if she asks for me, if...just let me know right away, okay?"

"I will. Goodnight, Lindsey," she says in a reassuring voice, and he's still not used to this unusual kindness from her.

Before he can answer, he hears a voice calling "K'ren?" in the background, and then a click.

\-------------------------

He wants to get drunk.

Barring that, he wants to down a few Ambien and slip into unconsciousness for at least a day.

But he doesn't do either. He has to stay alert and sober in case she needs him. He's convinced himself that it's only a matter of time, and so he has to be ready.

He sleeps fitfully, waking up several times thinking that he's heard the phone ring, but each time there's nothing but a dial tone on the other end of the line. When he _does_ sleep, to his relief, he doesn't dream.

The next morning, he's forcing himself to down a cup of coffee when he finally gets a call that's not a figment of his imagination. "Stevie?"

"Sorry. Just me. I thought I'd call while she's in the shower." Karen sighs. "It was a long night. Once the meds they gave her at the hospital wore off...I know she's in pain but she won't admit it and she won't take anything."

"Has she eaten?"

"She picked at some eggs this morning, only because I told her I didn't trust her to shower until she had something to eat."

He's almost angry because he never would've let her shower on her own, at least not without him sitting right outside the tub, but how else did he expect Karen to get away long enough to call? "Karen, you have to make sure she keeps eating. After we...she wouldn't eat, she ended up spending the night in the ER because of it," he says, remembering yet another trip to a foreign hospital that he should've prevented. "You know what, maybe I should just come down there and-"

"Lindsey, I don't think that's a good idea," she says gently. "She's still pretty fragile."

"And that's why I should be there! Nobody else knows what she needs more than I do. No offense," he adds, and since when does he apologize to Karen?

"I know you don't mean to, but showing up right now would just upset her more. Give her time. I'm working on getting her to agree about letting her mom come out here, or...I haven't asked her what she wants to do about the shows yet," and it was only then that he remembered they were supposed to be flying back to the Bay Area today for a couple of nights before they returned to LA for a week and a half there. "I'm not sure if I should try to convince her to just go home."

Does this woman know Stevie at all? "It won't work. If she can stand, she'll want to keep going."

"I'll talk to her about it in a bit, see how she feels after she showers." Karen pauses. "Do you have someone you can talk to? About all this, I mean."

"No," he says, and he's telling the truth.

\-------------------------

_A bad combination._

Stevie replays those words in her head as she stands in the shower, one hand on the rail to steady herself, letting the warm water make its best attempt at washing away some of the misery of the last day and a half.

The doctor she met yesterday had been a kindly older man, not unlike the doctor who performed the... _procedure_ the day her daughter died. He had come back to talk to her before she went into the operating room, wanting to know if she had any last minute questions and if she wanted any testing done on the 'remains'.

"Since this is your first miscarriage, we wouldn't normally do any follow up, but since you and your husband have a history of birth defects," and she didn't bother to correct him, "we can send it to a lab to see if they can identify what the problem was, if it might be a genetic issue."

She shakes her head. She's not going to get pregnant again, so what difference would it make? "We already had blood samples sent to a geneticist, they didn't find anything abnormal. So I guess that's not it."

"It may not be. It could be two random incidences, or it could be something we don't have the ability to screen for. Unfortunately, sometimes it's just a bad combination of genes and we don't know why."

_A bad combination, and we don't know why_. Doesn't that pretty much sum up the last 30 years?

Standing is getting uncomfortable, so she turns off the water and steps gingerly out of the tub. The doctor told her she shouldn't have any more pain afterward than she would after an early trimester abortion (and God knows she's an old pro at that), but right now she'd beg to differ. Maybe because before she had always gobbled up whatever pills they sent her home with, painkillers and sleeping pills and the like. This time, she hasn't taken anything but an antibiotic since she left the hospital despite Karen's pleading. It's not that she doesn't want them. But she knows that if she starts, she may never stop.

Her eyes fixed on a tiny scuff on the bathroom wall, she dries off and dresses quickly. She doesn't want to look down and she certainly doesn't want to look in the mirror. It had been about a week since she 'popped', as she put it, enough that she had a visible bump unless she was wearing something flowy and black, which was something she had managed to avoid until well into her second trimester last time. She had already made plans to go shopping for maternity clothes when they got back to California later in the week.

Lindsey had loved it, of course. (That, and her newly giant boobs).

She knows he's probably decided that she doesn't care but the truth is, she can't even think of him without the tears starting to flow again. She knows that she hurt him. But why prolong the inevitable? Because yet another thing she knows is how badly he wanted to be a father (again). She's not sure that he himself realized how much he wanted it until it looked like it was really going to happen, even after all the conversations they'd had about it over the summer. And she's not sure what _she_ was happier about, that she was going to be a mother (again) or that she was able to give him something that made him so happy. Because she wanted to do that for him so fucking badly, and she tried so goddamn hard to get it right this time. She ate healthy and took her vitamins and got plenty of rest and didn't even _look_ at anything that might have been remotely harmful to the baby, but it still wasn't enough. Hell, last time she at least managed to keep her daughter alive for five months, and she could've even lived longer if not for-

_'You killed her! You killed my daughter, you bitch! And I hope it kills you for the rest of your life. I wish it would've been you.'_

He told her so many times that he didn't blame her, but she never quite believed it. She openly blamed him, just to try getting him to crack, and it destroyed their relationship but he still didn't confess the truth. Not for seven more years.

_'I will never forgive you, Stevie, I will never be able to look at you without thinking about what you did. Never.'_

She'd attempted to forgive herself. Ten years later, on her first trip back to Japan, she went to a temple in Tokyo where people left little dolls in memory of babies who had been miscarried or aborted. Correction: she _tried_ to go, but didn't get further than the temple gates before she collapsed onto a bench and sobbed drunkenly until her limo driver came to drag her back to the car. Then years after that, once she got sober, she talked about it a little in therapy. But it didn't do any good, so her goal shifted to making peace with _not_ forgiving herself. That one seemed more achievable.

And then came Lindsey. She knows that he regrets what he said, but it's very possible to regret saying something and still believe that you were telling the truth. The more they talked about starting a family of their own, though, the more she started to think that he really had forgiven her. Then she got pregnant despite all the odds, and although she knew the risks of having a child at her age, it felt like destiny. Nothing would ever replace the child that they lost, but it was a chance to show him that she really had changed. What better proof could there be than giving him a healthy baby?

She did everything she was supposed to and she still failed. And again, he told her it wasn't her fault. But how long would it be before he changed his mind, assuming that he was being honest to begin with? She wasn't going to wait however long it took, weeks or months or years, for the resentment to creep in and the truth to come out.

He might not understand now, but he will eventually. She's sure of it.

\-------------------------

Turns out he was right that she'd insist on keeping the tour going.

First thing the next morning, they were on a plane down to California. They had been looking forward to this leg of the tour since the beginning - two shows up north before going back to LA, with a brief side trip to Phoenix. It would be their first chance to see their friends and family since they found out about the baby. But now, of course, everything had changed.

He'd called Jeff before they left Seattle and gave him the bare minimum information; that the baby was gone and they wouldn't be able to meet up with the family like they'd planned, but he'd see them at the show. When Jeff asked about Stevie, he said they were 'on a break', and could he please pass the message along to Mom? (He couldn't bear to tell her himself).

Stevie was in obvious pain when they got on the plane, although she brushed off his concern, and that night at the venue there was still some stiffness in her walk. Mick took one for the team, asking her if she was sure that she wanted to do this. "We'd all understand if you didn't."

"I'll take a Tylenol and I'll be fine."

"It's just that -"

"For Chrissakes, if I've played shows on my period where I was bleeding so badly that I had to change my tampon in between songs," and everyone but Christine looked horrified, "then I can do this."

And he had to admit that she was right when she said she'd be fine. She might've been lacking a little of her usual energy, but the only real difference in this show compared to the last was how quickly she moved away when he tried to hug her on stage.

He had another restless night, still unable to sleep and unwilling to touch anything that might impair him in case Stevie came calling. Mick and John had offered multiple times to take him out for drinks to get his mind off of things, as if that would even be possible, but he rejected the offers in favor of staying holed up in his room with his guitar. Besides, there's not enough alcohol in the world to change how he's feeling. God knows he's tried before.

The next day he borrows Jeff's car and drives out to the cemetery where his dad and Greg are buried. He doesn't make it past the parking lot before he breaks down, climbing into the backseat and curling up in the fetal position.

He wonders when he's going to stop regretting that day he picked up the phone and Mick Fleetwood was on the other end. If he had called just a minute later they would've been outside setting out the food for their party, and they might not have even heard the phone ring. As it was, he was halfway out the door before he turned around to answer it. Maybe Mick would've called back, or maybe he would've found another guitarist. He and Stevie would've moved back up here and into a little house their parents bought for them; gotten married and became parents themselves and upgraded to a bigger house as their family grew.

Stevie always disagrees when he brings this up, saying that Fleetwood Mac had nothing to do with it because they wouldn't have made it anyhow. He's not so sure. For years now, he's been certain about how they would have had a healthy daughter if not for the band. He was reminded of it last night when he saw Cory, newly graduated from high school and so full of excitement about her future, and it was impossible to watch her and not think about how he should have a teenager of his own.

But now he's got another 'what if' to occupy his mind, another child he'll never get to meet. He doesn't even know whether it was a boy or girl. All he knew was that they were finally getting the chance that they'd been denied for years, the one he'd waited for since he was barely older than Cory, and now it seems like it might have been too late. Just his luck.

He lies there for a while longer and then drives back to Jeff's house.

\-------------------------

He honestly expected nothing.

Literally, nothing. He assumed the gesture would go unrecognized. But that didn't stop him from sneaking into her dressing room after the show, while she was still occupied with talking to her mother and Karen, and leaving a small gift next to her makeup table. Only the dogs saw, and he trusted them to keep quiet.

Not that it would be difficult for her to figure out where it had come from. Still, he didn't think he'd hear a series of sharp knocks on his door before he even finished changing. "Stevie. Hey."

"What is this?" she demands to know, holding up a cassette.

"What does it look like? It's a tape," he says, frowning in confusion. "I made it yesterday. Just some stuff I've been working on," and he doesn't mention that he originally started recording it for her to listen to with the baby. "It doesn't have words yet or anything, but I heard you were having trouble sleeping, so I thought it might help."

She's not angry, despite her brusque demeanor. He knows her well enough to pick out when she's truly angry. "Lindsey. Why?"

"What do you mean, why? Don't overthink it," he says carefully. "We're still friends, right? I'm trying to be a friend."

"You left me a flower too."

"I did."

She shakes her head, her pinky finger delicately swiping under one eye. "Well. Don't."

"Don't leave you flowers, or don't -"

"Lindsey, why are you making this so hard for me? It's time for you to move on. The last thing I need is you trying to guilt trip me when I know I'm doing the best that I can."

"Trying to- no," he says with no small amount of bitterness seeping through his tightly clenched teeth. "I didn't even think you'd actually acknowledge me."

"I'm not ignoring you, just...I need time, okay?" she asks, like ignoring him isn't exactly what she's been doing for almost four days now.

"Time for what? You were the one who told me not to get my hopes up," he reminds her.

"I was right. You shouldn't."

"Then what am I supposed to do?!" There it was again, that unrivaled ability that she'd always had to convince him that he must be crazy. He tries to reach out, and she thinks he's trying to guilt trip her. If he had done nothing, she would've accused him of not caring. "Listen, this is a shitty enough situation and I don't want to make it worse. But I do miss you, and I _am_ worried about you."

Half a dozen emotions flash across her face in rapid succession, hurt and regret and frustration and others he can't define. "You're lying."

"Huh?" he asks, sure that he must have misheard, but the defensive way her arms are crossed is speaking loud and clear. She wasn't angry before, but she is now.

"I said, you're lying," she repeats in the haughty voice she uses because she thinks it can conceal an impending breakdown. "You always cared about her more than me, so why should it be any different now?"

"Stevie, what are you even talking about? _Who_ are you -"

"Samantha!" she shouts. It's the loudest he's ever heard that name uttered, and although they're alone, he finds himself looking around to confirm that no one else heard. "You wanted us to get married just because I was pregnant, and as soon as I wasn't anymore, you threw me away," and that was not at all how he remembers it, but he suspects it won't do him any good to argue. "You would've chosen her over me and you probably would've done the same with this baby, so you can just stop pretending and go back to your lifetime of resenting me."

"I don't resent you, not for -"

"You wanted me dead!" It's not true, not in the least- even in the moments of his life where he was in the deepest depths of his anger toward her, he never once wanted that. But he said it anyway, knowing he couldn't take it back once it was out there, and now he's paying the price. "You said you'd never forgive me.

Well, guess what, Lindsey? _I_ won't forgive _you_."

**_the next day_ **

Stevie wasn't sure how she felt about being home.

On the one hand, it felt good to come back to familiar surroundings, to take a long shower in her own bathroom and climb under the covers of her own bed. She'd been living in hotels for almost eight weeks and as luxurious as the accommodations always were, more so than she could've ever dreamt of back in the day when they were staying at the likes of the Tropicana, they're still not her carefully curated refuge.

However, that refuge wasn't exclusively hers anymore. She walked through the door to find Lindsey's things scattered everywhere, like a dream suspended in medias res. A dream that she doesn't know how to let go of.

She told her mother that she was tired and was going to bed early, which was partially true. Once the bedroom door is securely locked behind her, she steps into the closet and searches for an oversized gray sweatshirt, one that Lindsey pulled on every morning before letting the dogs out at sunrise to do their business. She smirks to herself, remembering how he said that his willingness to take on this chore was the only reason Karen tolerated him. Guess it'll be Karen's job again, she thinks, blinking back tears when she breathes in his scent on the fabric.

She finds her hand being unconsciously drawn to her stomach yet again, and she recoils like she's touched a hot stove. Going over to the far corner of her room, where a variety of dolls and stuffed animals are sitting together, she picks up a dark haired doll that she hasn't touched in over a year. Rebecca.

Pulling the comforter up to her chin, she settles herself in bed with Rebecca lying nestled on her chest, the doll's warm weight comforting her as she feels some of the tension in her mind and her muscles dissipate.

She can't help but think about how Lindsey was the only person who never rolled their eyes or made passive aggressive jokes or tried to convince her to 'get rid of the doll' the way that the rest of her friends and family did. He didn't understand, she was sure of that, and he probably hated Rebecca as much as the rest of them did, but he didn't show it.

She remembers her worst night in detox, how she had decided to just get up and walk out. She knew the drill, she was here voluntarily, and so all that the staff could do was tell her it was a bad idea. They couldn't physically block the door and drag her back inside. Thing was, Lindsey wasn't a staff member.

Looking back, she's surprised they didn't put her in a straitjacket. She knows she screamed. A lot. She thinks she hit him, probably more than once. But somehow he managed to calm her down enough to get her back into bed. She was sure that she was having a heart attack, or a seizure, or both; her pulse erratic and her breathing choppy and her whole body in pain from shaking so violently all over. He held onto her as she was thrashing around, gentle hands resting on her shoulders to reassure her when it hurt too much to be touched anywhere else.

When the shaking had tapered off to just a few twitches in her limbs, he turned around and lifted Rebecca up off of the bedside table where he had sat her for safekeeping during the earlier commotion. He was as careful with the doll as he had been with Stevie herself as he placed her back into her owner's arms.

"Thank you," she said, grateful that he knew she would want her without having to ask.

She laid on her side and cradled Rebecca against her body as Lindsey laid back down behind her and put his arm around her middle. "This okay?"

"Mmhmm." She could feel his nose and mouth nuzzling her hair and his heartbeat thumping against her shoulder blade, her own fingers smoothing over Rebecca's curls. Snuggling together like this, it was easy to let herself indulge in the fantasy that they were somewhere else, _something_ else altogether. That they were a real family and the reason she ached everywhere was that she'd just given birth to their baby, rather than being in the throes of drug withdrawal. Her baby was here now, and she'd feel better in the morning.

With that image in her mind, she managed to sleep soundly for the first time since entering detox.

But Lindsey was gone now, and sleep wasn't coming. She leaves Rebecca in the bed, making sure that she's concealed by the blankets, and goes down to the kitchen to make herself some tea.

\-------------------------

Desperate for something to do other than sit alone in his hotel room while the previous night's conversation with Stevie replays on an endless loop in his head, Lindsey decides to drive out to his house and see how the renovations are proceeding. Might as well, he figures, because now it looks like he'll be returning there eventually instead of selling it and moving to Phoenix like he'd planned.

He picks up some clean clothes so that he won't have to go back to Stevie's condo and retrieve the stuff he'd left there. As he passes by the kitchen, he sees the blinking light on his answering machine and presses the play button, even though he's in no mood to talk to anyone.

Some shit he'd already taken care of...skip. Wrong number...skip. "Lindsey! It's Carol Ann. I know it's been a while, but -" Jesus. Couldn't delete that one fast enough. A message from the jeweler he'd been to in New York saying his ring was ready...ouch. Skip. Next, a young female voice: "Linds, it's Kristen. I saw you were playing in Irvine next week and I remembered you told me last spring to let you know if I wanted tickets-"

He honestly had forgotten all about it until he heard the message, and then he vaguely recalled promising her something like that with no real intention of following through on it. But really, what could it hurt? It's not like he had to take her out to dinner afterwards or something, and it's not like Stevie was going to care anymore.

Her own answering machine picks up his call. "Uh, hey. It's Lindsey. Sorry it took me so long to get back to you -"

"Lindsey?" asks a slightly out of breath voice.

"Hi! Yeah, it's me." They chat for a few minutes, just catching up. He tells her a little about the tour, minus everything that had gone on in the last week, and she tells him about moving to a new place after her divorce was finally settled. It was refreshing, talking to someone with no drama involved. He may never have had any serious interest in her, but she was always a good listener and it was admittedly flattering, having someone hang on his every word the way that Stevie used to in their much younger days when she still thought he hung the moon. "Well, I guess I'll let you go, but my manager will call you tomorrow about the tickets."

"Oh thank you! I'm _so_ glad I heard from you."

He glances over at the clock. In theory, it would be nearing his bedtime, but in practice it was just the beginning of another lonely, sleepless night. Unless... "Listen, I know it's kinda late, but would you want to go get a drink or something? No pressure, I just...it'd be good to get out of the house."

"Of course, I'd love to. But...won't your girlfriend mind?"

Girlfriend. Ha. "That's- it's complicated. Don't worry about it." He feels a twinge of guilt and then stuffs it back down. Stevie was the one who said it was over, after all, and it's not like he was going on a date anyway. His choices are either going out to drink or staying at home and getting drunk alone, so he's choosing the healthier option. He can't spend one more night sober and waiting for a call that won't come while he ruminates over everything he's lost and everything he's fucked up. "So I'll pick you up in an hour?"

"Can't wait."


	41. it's a love story, baby, just say yes (1980)

**_April 1980_ **

Stevie's still asleep when Lindsey wakes up, so he quietly gets out of bed and goes downstairs to get the coffee started- only to find Stevie's parents already awake and sitting at the kitchen table. "Good morning!"

"Good morning," he repeats, hoping they weren't going to comment on any strange noises they might have heard coming from the guest room last night. "Don't let me bother you, I just came down for-"

"No, you're no bother. Actually, why don't you have a seat?" Jess asks in a tone that indicates it's an order, not an offer, pulling out a chair for him. He sits down, too nervous to even ask if he could get his coffee first.

"Did you two sleep well?" For a second, he gets suspicious, but he nods and Barbara seems satisfied with his answer. "Good. She's had a hard time lately, waking up at all hours of the night. Make sure she's getting her rest once you're back home, alright?"

"Yeah, of course. I figured we'd just take it easy until we have to leave," he promises her, which was a creative way of saying that he didn't plan on them getting out of bed until they were on their way to the airport.

"So. Lindsey," Jess says, setting down his coffee mug. "You and Stevie got a chance to talk some things out yesterday, I reckon?"

"We did." It's kinda true, in that they talked about the new house and the tour, but nothing earth shattering. He figured there'd be time for that later, and their first priority should be to enjoy being reunited with each other.

"Glad to hear it. Now, I'm not trying to interfere with your lives, and I'm not going to - what's done is done, and we can leave that in the past. I'd rather focus on the future." Lindsey is not sure where this is going, but he thinks it's leading into a lecture. Maybe he should hope that's _all_ it is. And part of him thinks hey, he's a grown man. He's not a teenager who needs to be told to bring their daughter back at a reasonable hour anymore. But he respects them, and he wants to show them that he respects Stevie, so he stays put. "So what are your plans for once this baby comes?"

Was this a trick question? "Well, uh. Stevie wants to have her back home and then move out here once she's a month or two old, so I assume that's what we'll do. Guess we might have to find somewhere temporary to live if the house isn't done by then."

"You know you're always welcome to stay with us for as long as you need," Barbara says.

While Lindsey wouldn't mind doing that on a _short-term_ basis, he doesn't know if Stevie would feel the same. It would be good to have Barbara around, someone who knows how to take care of a baby, but she and Stevie had a tendency to butt heads if they spent too much time together. "Thanks. I'll...I'll run that past Stevie."

"You're okay with moving out here?" Jess wants to know.

"I told her if that's what she wants, we'll do it." He would much rather stay in LA, but when Stevie showed him the plans for the house and the plot of land she'd already bought, how could he say no to that? And although he has no doubt that she could get her hands on anything (or anyone) she wanted with a single phone call in either state, he thinks there'll be fewer temptations for her out here. "And I'm kinda homeless right now, actually, cause my gi- _ex_ girlfriend is living in our old house until it sells." He'd promised Carol that he'd help her get a place of her own when that happened, but he hadn't even told Stevie that, so he sure as hell wasn't going to tell her parents. "But I figure Stevie will keep her condo at home because I'm sure we'll be going back and forth a lot."

Barbara and Jess give each other a look that he can't decipher. "And have you two discussed what your plans are career-wise?"

"A little, I mean- she told me she doesn't want to quit the band, and she wants to keep touring as long as she can. I know we'll have to cancel the last American leg, but I'm okay with that. Even if the others want to do it without her, I'm going to tell them that when she's out, I'm out. I don't want to be away from her anymore, especially when she's pregnant."

He can't be sure, but he thinks they look relieved. "And what about after that?"

"Oh. Uh. I really don't know, other than she'll probably want to take some time off to be with the baby. We're definitely not going right back into the studio once the tour's over like we did before." Although he has a growing collection of demos he's been working on, even some stuff he came up with during his recent stay at the beach, he's thought about music less in the last three weeks than he has in a very long time. He's been too preoccupied thinking about the future and how he was going to prove himself to Stevie.

Jess nods thoughtfully. "I think what Barb and I are trying to get at here is, parenting is a big job. A full time responsibility. And we know that you both have a lot on your plates already, that's why we want to make sure that you two are prepared to split the load evenly."

"That's right," Barbara agrees. "There's sacrifices that have to be made whenever children are involved, and they usually end up being made by the mother. But you've always worked as a team before, the two of you, and you're going to need to keep doing that. It shouldn't be all on one person."

"I promise you guys...I'm going to give Stevie everything she wants," he says without hesitating.

"And we trust you. When she was pregnant before, and she asked me what I thought she should do, I told her that she already knew. Personally, I didn't want her to be a single mother. Not that I was worried what people would think," Barbara clarifies, and he gets the feeling that Stevie must not have ever told her mom about his offer, "but because I didn't want her tied to someone like that for life, who wouldn't take responsibility and who wouldn't care if it meant she couldn't pursue the career she wanted. I told her that if she wanted to keep it, I would support her all the way, but I knew that her heart was telling her that this was not the right time and he wasn't the right man."

Lindsey snorts softly, shaking his head to show that he shared this opinion. Not that he'd been a perfect parent thus far, but he would _never_ tell Stevie (or any other woman, for that matter) to get an abortion just because he didn't want to deal with being a father. "That's for damn sure."

"So then, when we talked to her on the phone a few weeks ago and she told me she was definitely keeping this baby - same as before, I knew her heart would tell her the right thing to do. Even though she said the two of you were having...problems...I believed in her, and you, that together you could work things out. But I wouldn't have encouraged her if I thought that...I'd rather her be a single mother than be with someone who isn't treating her fairly," Barbara says, looking straight at him with a resolved expression, and he knows she's not saying this to mean that he should feel free to leave any time.

"We know you both love each other. And we also know that Teedee isn't always easy to live with," Jess admits. "But we expect you to do your part with raising this child no matter what might be going on between you and her."

"Stevie being happy is the most important thing in the world to me - well, besides our daughter, " he vows to them. "I'm going to make sure they're taken care of. I already told her a long time ago that if she wants to do a solo album after she has the baby, I'll do everything I can to help her with it, and I still mean that."

"I take that to mean you're not a fan of the fellow she's been working with," Jess says, chuckling.

Lindsey's not sure how much actual _work_ she and Jimmy have done together, but he'll refrain from saying that to her parents. "No. Well, I was only around him for a few days, but- not that I ever saw him treat her bad," he assures the elder Nicks', "I just didn't think he was all that great."

"Well then. I think that's all we had to say, wasn't it, Barb?"

She reaches across the table and pats Lindsey's hand. "You've always been family to us. This just makes it a little more official."

"Thank you," he says, wondering if that's a hint that he should make it even _more_ official. They're not the type to demand that he marry their daughter, even when they were young kids 'cohabiting', and not just because they know how she's always felt about marriage. But he has to think they'd be pretty pleased if (when) he did.

Jess gets up from the table when Lindsey does and gives him a light slap on the back. "And I trust we're not going to have any more incidents like we did in New Zealand."

"No," he says, noting the ominous use of the royal 'we'. "Absolutely not."

"Good. Because you know how they say - Jesus forgives. But I don't forget."

\-------------------------

After that conversation, Lindsey really felt like he could go for a smoke, and he thought longingly about the joint stashed away in his car's glove box before deciding against it and going upstairs to check on Stevie instead. She'd definitely smell it on him, and he didn't want her to be tempted on his account.

He sits down beside her on the edge of the bed and kisses the top of her head. "You awake, sleepy girl?"

"Yesss," she purrs, smiling with her eyes closed and rolling over so that her head is resting on his thigh. "Mmm. Get over here and eat me out."

"I - what?" He almost chokes on a laugh, surprised by her boldness.

She looks up at him with pleading, faux-innocent eyes. "I _told_ you, I've missed you a lot."

"And your parents are both awake downstairs. We've been having a conversation." Her eyebrows shoot upward. "Don't worry, I only got mildly lectured." She groans like she's embarrassed, but he knows she would've laid into him if he had been anything less than polite to her folks. In any case, although his dick is twitching at the thought, he's not brave enough to give in to what she wants when Jess and Barbara are well aware of where he and Stevie are right now. "C'mon, get up so we can head home."

"Lindsey..."

He leans over so his mouth is right beside her ear. "Then you can have my mouth on your pussy all night if that's what you want."

"Is that the only place?" she asks with a seductive pout, and he pulls the blanket up over her head while she dissolves into laughter.

\-------------------------

"And now look who's impatient," Stevie taunts as she balances on her hands and knees above Lindsey, her breasts swaying just out of his mouth's reach.

After a tearful goodbye to her parents and an even more tearful goodbye to Ginny, the two of them had hit the road to make the trip back to LA. They made frequent stops along the way for Stevie to use the restroom, or get something to drink, or make another bathroom trip because she'd just finished another can of Coke.

"No more," he said when she pointed out a sign for a gas station two miles ahead.

"But I want some water."

"What happened to -" She rattled the Styrofoam cup she was holding, now filled with nothing but a few ice cubes. He groaned, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "We have a half hour to go. Can you just get some water then?"

"But the baby-" and damn, if she got whatever she wanted before she was pregnant (and she usually did), he was even more incapable of saying no to her now. He even went inside the station to buy her drink while she wandered around the parking lot taking photos.

"I'm going to send this one in the envelope with the others," she explained, showing him a Polaroid of the sunny California sky. Before they left, she had insisted on getting pictures of herself with her parents, with Lindsey, and with Ginny to send to the old couple they had stayed with in Japan. In the shot with Lindsey, she had her hand on her belly, and she'd written 'baby coming in October!' below along with a little drawing of a swaddled newborn to get the message across.

He nodded and handed her another cup. "Ready to go now?"

"Yeah- no, wait! Can you go back in and get me some chips? The really salty kind."

Once they got home, she forgot all about snacks and drinks when they skipped unpacking in favor of other things. True to his word, it didn't take long before he was gripping her thighs as she straddled his head, his tongue licking up and down her slit while his day-old stubble tickled her sensitive skin.

And now it was her turn to tease him, slowly rubbing her center against his torso as she leaned forward so that her nipple was brushing over his lips. His hands went to her ass and she pulled back, shaking her head. "Did I say you could touch me? Nope."

She knows that normally he would've had her pinned underneath him by now, but he's being so patient and careful because of the baby and she's happy to take advantage of that in order to torment him a little. He groans and she drops down to her elbows so that he can finally get his mouth on her breast.

"Ohhh baby, that's it, ohhh... " she sighs. His teeth ever so gently scrape across her nipple and this time, she's not worried about muffling her enthusiasm. "Lindsey! Fuck! Linds, I need you."

He squeezes her ass, waiting for her to sink back onto his cock, but instead she moves to the side and kneels with her hands on the headboard. "You're sure?"

"I'm holding on tight," she says, looking over her shoulder and giving him a wicked smile as she shakes the headboard slightly to demonstrate. Logically she knows that she hasn't gained _that_ much weight, but she doesn't know if she trusts her arms to support her the whole time...especially if he fucks her hard like she wants it.

He kisses the base of her neck, taking his dick in hand and nudging her clit with the head. They were in one of the guest rooms, Stevie not wanting to take the time to move all the suitcase contents that she had previously dumped onto her own bed, and for the first time he notices the open window that runs parallel to the bed and the warm evening air wafting through the screen. "Think anyone can see us from here?"

"What? No," she scoffs when she figures out what he's talking about. The window was on the side of the house, facing a road that saw very little traffic other than her own. "Not unless someone happened to look up at just the right angle... " She wiggles her ass toward him impatiently. "C'mon."

"But what if they did?" he asks, sliding inside her little by little. "What if someone sees you bent over like this for me?"

It's really his fantasy, not hers, but she still shivers in a way that has nothing to do with the light breeze on her bare back. She hums happily to herself as he starts moving back and forth, reaching behind her to place her hand atop the one of his that's resting on her hip. "I wouldn't think you'd like that very much, hmm?"

"Ehh, I might be a tiny bit jealous," he admits. "But I'd get over it." He lets his hand roam from her hip to her stomach and then in between her legs, right above where they're joined. "Cause if they saw what a slut you are for me, how much you love it when I fuck you like this...they'd know they could never compete with me."

"You're so arrogant," she says with a toss of her head, but her attitude rapidly changes when he starts rubbing her clit between his thumb and forefinger. "Shit."

He laughs knowingly. "You gonna tell me I'm wrong?"

"No. I'm gonna tell you to shut up and fuck me harder."

\-------------------------

A few orgasms and a few dents on the wall later, they were lying side by side, both of them with a hand placed on her stomach. "That was...okay. Wasn't it?"

"No, I was very dissatisfied, couldn't you tell?" Stevie deadpanned, but he seemed to be serious. "I promise you, I'd tell you if something didn't feel right. But you didn't hurt me, or her."

"Good, alright. Am I...am I still allowed to talk dirty to you? Or is that weird?"

"I've heard a lot dirtier," she pointed out. He still looked unsure, which is a little strange to her, because she hadn't seen him this insecure when it came to sex since the first time they slept together. "I'm serious. You don't have to treat me different just because I'm gonna be somebody's mother. I don't _want_ you to. You're the only one I've ever been totally comfortable with, y'know, and I don't want that to change."

"I am? Really?" he asked with a shy, almost boyish smile, and she could tell he wasn't just fishing for compliments.

"Course you are. I mean, before you, I'd never done anything other than missionary with the lights off," she reminded him. "We figured everything out together."

He appreciated her not reminding him that he had done even less before they met. "Think we can figure out being parents too? "

"I do."

"You're not scared?" he asked, amazed by how confident she sounded.

"Are you kidding? I'm fucking terrified!" she said, laughing. "But seriously, when I look back at everything we've been through and everything we've accomplished...most people could never. We did, though, we've stuck it out and we're still together. So I believe in us."

"And Sam."

"And her. Our little panda." They had been talking about baby names on the way home, Stevie reading from the list she'd been making over the last three weeks. Despite her insistence that they were having a girl, Lindsey said they should probably think of boy names too, which eventually led them to deciding on Samantha/Samuel. That way, they could call the baby Sam or Sammy until they found out the gender next month. "You still want to keep her name a secret until she's born?"

"Yeah, we need something to surprise everyone with since they'll already know what we're having. Otherwise there's no excitement." He stroked Stevie's still-flushed cheek with his thumb, remembering the baby in his dream with her nose and chin, imagining what it'll be like the first time he sees her holding their daughter.

"How about them being excited that I just pushed a human being out of my-" She stopped talking and looked at him sternly. "You _are_ going to be there with me, aren't you?"

He may have been lying down, but he still felt like he might faint when he recalled that book about childbirth. "Uh, yeah. I mean. Am I supposed to be?"

"Yes!" she chides him lightly. "It's the 80s, men don't sit in the waiting room handing out cigars like our dads did. I want you and Mom there the whole time." Part of him actually likes this idea, because he knows he'd be going insane wondering what was happening and if she and the baby were okay. But on the other hand... "Lindsey. Don't tell me you're afraid you'll pass out."

"I'm not afraid," he huffs.

"Then what? You're worried I'll start yelling at you like women do on TV?" She asks like it's a ludicrous idea, seemingly forgetting all the shouting matches they've had even when she _wasn't_ giving birth.

"No! I guess I just...I don't like seeing you in pain," he admits, looking a touch embarrassed. "Especially when I can't do anything about it. But I'll be there."

She puts her hand over his heart, rubbing in little circles. "Aww, honey, you're so sweet. But I'm definitely getting an epidural. The best one they have. I want everything to be as peaceful as it can...it's gotta be scary for a baby, you know? All of a sudden you're in a strange place with all these lights and noise- so I don't want her to hear me screaming on top of that."

He smiles, then kisses the tip of her nose. That's the real Stevie- the kind, caring, big hearted girl he fell in love with a dozen years ago. "You're such a good mother already."

"Thank you," she says, pressing their lips together until she pulls away to yawn. "Could you go get me some more water?"

"Sure, baby." He goes downstairs to the kitchen and fills up a glass, putting in just the right amount of ice as he hums a new melody he's been working on under his breath. Whistling to himself as he climbs the stairs, he pauses when he gets to the doorway, finding her curled up on her side and already asleep.

He puts the cup on the nightstand and switches off the lamp, then climbs into bed next to her. "Night, you two."

\-------------------------

Lindsey's mostly asleep when he feels Stevie wriggle out of his embrace. "Y'okay?"

"Yeah, just gotta pee." He hears her padding across the floor and into the bathroom, then cracks open one eye to see that the sun has just begun to rise.

She comes back to the bedroom and he turns his head to watch her as she talks quietly to her stomach: 'you are never going to let me sleep in, are you, my little panda?' His heart feels close to bursting as he takes in the sight of her in her pink nightgown and thick fuzzy socks, her curls mussed from sleep, and without thinking he blurts out "Marry me."

"Wha- you mean, me?" she asks, still not fully awake.

"Course I mean you." She looks confused, but not in a bad way, and that gives him the courage to continue. "I know this isn't how you're supposed to do it, to propose or whatever," he admits, thinking back to his rejected proposal from five years earlier where he thought he did everything right and she still said no, "but I can't help it. I just...it's like you said the other day. I want us to be a real family and I want you to be my wife. I want us to be together for good."

She nods slowly once, twice, like she's deep in thought and then simply says "Okay!"

"Does that - you're serious?" She nods again, much quicker this time and with a proud grin on her face, and he whoops and pushes himself up on his elbows to get a better look at his bride to be. "We're getting married!"

\-------------------------

"You're getting married," Robin says once Stevie is settled in the front seat of her car, ready for their shopping trip. Stevie had called her right after she called her parents with the news, wanting to go looking for a dress before they had to leave LA.

"Robbie..." She hadn't really been able to have a conversation about it on the phone, because she could tell Robin was tempering her response while Lindsey was in the room. " Don't say it like that."

"It's just that you were so determined that the best thing for everyone was for you to _not_ be together. I'm surprised, that's all."

"Are you _really_?"

"Surprised? No," Robin admits. "I knew you'd end up back together. But I hope you're sure that- is this what you honestly want? You're not just doing this for the baby, you're doing it because you truly want to marry him."

She thinks back to when she was in the hospital and told Robin she'd decided it was unequivocally over, about all the hurt she was feeling (and all because of him). She hasn't forgotten. But then she thinks about how she'd imagined him raising her child with some other woman, about how scared and lonely she'd felt when she was at her parents' house not knowing whether he'd changed his mind, and how her mother had reassured her that she was doing the right thing by giving him another chance. Mom told her that she was strong, that either way she would survive. But she had been unhappy when they were together, and unhappy when they were apart, and she knew for a fact that she would rather have him with her. "I do. I mean...it's Lindsey."

"As long as you're doing it for the right reasons, then I'm okay with it," Robin says. "But if he hurts you again like..."

Stevie waves her hand to signal that this discussion is over. "I need you to be happy for me, Rob, you're the only one other than my family that I've told. Please?"

"How long are you going to keep it a secret?"

"Until after the ceremony." She knew what she wanted for her dream wedding, but she knew there was no way she'd be able to plan it in between touring and being pregnant - and the dream didn't include looking like she was hiding a basketball under her dress in all the pictures. Lindsey was willing to wait so that she could have everything she wanted, but she thought they should be married by the time the baby came. In the end, they agreed that they'd do a civil ceremony with just their families present while they had a short break from touring next month, and then have the real thing sometime next year after their daughter was born. Stevie loved the idea of including Samantha and had already started sketching ideas for her wedding dress and a smaller matching version for her little girl. "Then we'll meet up with everyone before we leave for Europe and they'll think we're just celebrating my birthday, but then we'll go 'Surprise! We got married!'"

Robin laughs. Who else but Stevie would throw _herself_ a 'surprise' party? "Can I see your ring?"

"Of course!" She proudly holds out her left hand and shows off a gold band with a single diamond on her thumb. "It'll have to be resized to wear on my ring finger, but Mom said I should hold off on having that done until after I lose the baby weight."

"I thought you said it was a spur of the moment thing. How'd Lindsey already have a ring?"

Stevie explains that it was something he had inherited when one of his great-aunts died, and he had been holding onto it for years. Even though she believed him when he said he hadn't planned to propose, she was pleased to see that he had kept the ring ever since she turned him down five years earlier - that he never gave it to his 'fiance' Carol Ann and that he made sure he took it with him during his abrupt move. "I knew he had it but...I forgot, I guess. He told me he'd get me something bigger but I said I don't need it because this is perfect. A family heirloom, you know? Besides, I'm sure he'll get me a _gorgeous_ wedding ring."

"Because let me guess, you're picking it out yourself?" Robin surmised, and Stevie nodded eagerly.

"C'mon, Lindsey knows nothing about jewelry. He's fine with me helping him out a little."

She goes on to tell Robin about the proposal itself, about Lindsey scrambling around completely naked, looking through his suitcases until he found what he was searching for. He came back and sat beside her on the bed, holding out the ring and nervously asking 'will you marry me?' again as if he was worried she had already changed her mind. But she said yes, and he put it on her finger, "and then he says 'shit, I was supposed to get down on one knee, wasn't I?' So he takes the ring _off_ my hand and asks me a third time!"

It definitely wasn't the carefully choreographed proposal that he had attempted in '75, but it was perfect in its own way. And not just because she got to say yes this time. Despite what he thought, and probably still thinks, it has been agonizing to turn him down. She had wanted him to be the one to break off the relationship so that she didn't have to, but his only reaction when she tried to pull away was to cling harder.

Back then, getting married would've felt like running into the ocean at high tide, fighting with each step as the waves try to push you in the opposite direction. But now she feels like she's floating on a calmer sea, letting herself be led to shore and all that awaits her there. A baby. Marriage. Things she didn't even know were in store for her four months ago - and now, the next time midnight strikes on New Year's Eve, she'll be a mother and wife.

"What's so funny?" Robin asks as Stevie laughs to herself.

"I was just...who would've thought back at Christmas time that I'd be getting married before you?" She grabs Robin's sleeve. "You _have_ to get pregnant soon, because this little one needs a best friend."

"Ha! I'm trying to do things in the right order, unlike some people. Can I at least enjoy my honeymoon first?"

"Fine. But right after that, you're throwing your pills in the trash. The clock is ticking," Stevie says, adjusting the waistband on her skirt. Another week or two and she probably won't fit into it anymore.

Robin rolls her eyes as she puts the car in reverse. "Let's just go find you a wedding dress."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{back to '97 in the next chapter...I wonder what Lindsey's been up to?}}


End file.
